Some Rise By Sin - And Some By Virtue Fall
by Alexia Alastair
Summary: "I am a woman, I can wear no armour but a smile and I have no weapon but my words." Aliena, the king's beloved niece, bought everything she has with lies and smiles. Sandor loathes the young woman for her duplicity. Aliena loathes the man for his harshness. And yet, they feel inexplicably drawn to each other...
1. Chapter 1

Hello! I have uploaded a similar story with the same character. This one is almost identical up to chapter 23. Then I took a different path. Thank you for reading.

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Lady Aliena Swann (*282AC, so 16 in AGOT) is the daughter of King Robert's elder sister, Lady Alyssa Baratheon (*261 AC - 289AC) and Lord Clifford Swann, deceased elder brother of current head, Lord Gulian Swann. (I put his date of birth around 250AC, so that his brother Gulian, who is well past 40 (under 50) in 300AC, fits in well.) He died in Robert's rebellion. Aliena never met her father, he died before she was born. Her mother had married Lord Clifford for love rather than position and her husband's death left her power- and penniless, depending on her brothers' generosity. Lady Alyssa was most beloved by her brothers and so is their niece who takes after her mother in appearance and character.

298AC, King's Landing

Sandor

Aliena and Joffrey wandered through the queen's gardens. Only the royal family and their companions were allowed in these gardens and it was a peaceful morning. Sandor walked a few steps behind them but this duty of his was a waste of time. The gardens were secluded and surrounded by high walls. Joffrey told his cousin everything about the stag he had killed himself at the last hunt, he had severed the beast's head and put the huge antlers on the wall of his chamber. It had been a true beast, Sandor knew, with antlers wider than any stag he had seen before. But the boy had not killed the beast. His arrows had missed the creature by 5 feet and he had almost killed one of his father's cupbearers.

"The beast already laid on its side, wounded fatally by my arrows when I pulled my hunting knife and slit its throat. The blood came rushing out in a red stream and I saw death in its eyes." Sandor had almost snorted.

"It must have been very satisfying. And I heard everyone talk about the great antlers that now decorate your chambers. Everyone whispers that you are on the brink of surpassing your father in the hunt." _What an outrageous lie._

Lying was something she truly excelled in, the prince's fine little cousin, and Sandor felt a stab of contempt whenever he saw her, singing her sweet little songs and whispering into the king's and the queen's ears. _She deserves that brat, truly._ He had heard the gossip as well, the king wanted Joffrey to marry some daughter of Lord Stark, the queen had insisted that he wanted only his cousin. The king had won and Sandor guessed the little liar would score Tommen, the plump duckling.

"I am sure I will, soon. My master at arms said that my sword art eclipses everything he has ever seen."

 _Another liar. But that one was not as good._ He had seen the despair on the poor man's face when Joffrey had split a doll of straw by accident. The boy had later claimed it had been on purpose, of course.

They had walked over to the fountains, a dozen pools with differently coloured tiles that shone in the sunlight.

"This is such a beautiful place, my prince. I am sure no other castle has such a beautiful garden."

She stood by the waterfall that had been built into the wall, water rushed out of the stone softly. Sandor could not deny that she had turned out well. She had the Baratheon colouring, far more so than her cousins, with dark hair and light eyes. She was very tall and did not have the girlish slender built of her aunt. She looked almost a woman now and she would soon celebrate her sixteenth nameday, the king had planned a feast for her special day. The white gown she wore rippled in a soft breeze and her curls tumbled over her back. _The Stark girl has to be far prettier than her mother if she wants to compete._ Joffrey seemed to like her look as well. He sat down on the stone bench in the sun, his hair like gold.

"Sing for me." He commanded.

"Which song would my prince like to hear?" She smiled graciously but Sandor thought he noticed a sharpness in her tone.

"Your favourite song. I don't know the songs of women."

"The Seasons of my Love, a myrish song, my prince?"

The lad nodded and leant back. She sang and her voice was rich and soft. She sang not in the Myrish Valyrian but in the Common Tongue.

" _I loved a maid as fair as summer, with sunlight in her hair_

 _I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair_

 _I loved a maid as dark as winter, with nightsky in her hair_

 _I loved a maid as bright as spring, with dawning in her hair_

 _As the land changes masks, so changes my heart_

 _from light to shadows to ice_

 _but time, oh, it flies_

 _and when the thaw comes_

 _my heart spreads its wings like a dove_

 _Each and every lass that conquered my soul_

 _they are the seasons of my love._ "

Joffrey interrupted her and Sandor felt a stab of annoyance.

"Very beautiful, Mylady. Why is that your favourite song, sweet cousin?"

His manners were usually sickeningly friendly when with her.

"It just shows the fickleness of men and that we women should better not trust in sweet words and promises." Aliena laughed the seriousness off and Joffrey joined.

"Some promises are made to be kept though." He said, his expression had changed, he was no longer playful and jovial. He took her wrist in his hand and Sandor saw the pressure he put in. "

I am the Prince, I am a Lannister. I always keep my word." _It's A Lannister always pays his debts, fucker._

"The words of Princes and Kings are not to be questioned, of course. It is a song of the common folk and what do you think, how many drunkards promise a woman the stars and the sun for a night...and how many common women believe them?"

Joffrey nodded. He released the grip on his cousin's arm, where it had left a dark red mark. Sandor felt anger rise in him but the girl just shook her sleeve over her wrist subtly.

"You are right, dear Lady. The commoners have little sense. They seem to me like animals sometimes. But of course you go into the city often to talk to them and give them bread and coin they did not work for."

The Prince's tone was sharp. _Caution, little swan. Better sing another one of your sweet, false songs._

"They have little sense, my prince is right. And yet, they see what a golden prince and future king they have in you. They know all the gifts I bring come from you and they sing songs and prayers for your health and reign every night. Common they are, and simple. But they are your people and you will be the father of the realm. They work for you, the fight for you and they die for you. And you show them true greatness. All the great warrior kings were well beloved by the smallfolk. And you will be a great warrior king, won't you? I am sure many battles are to come and the people in King's Landing will only sleep calmly at night because they know no harm will come to them under your rule. You will be the Protector of the Realm, it is a king's duty."

 _Oh what a sweet liar you are._

"Those people should work for me because I am their king, not because I protect them. I want nothing from them, they are dirty simpletons, all of them."

The little swan had a hard time trying to instruct him, Sandor noticed with a touch of malice.

"But when they are all dead, who will you rule over? No, I fear, my prince, those common simpletons are important, more important than many of your lords."

"Maybe you are right. There are quite a few useless lords here. That summerlander, the beggar, he should go. All of the Northern lords, my mother said. They are all far too proud and stiff and they do not like a Lannister on the throne."

"Half a Lannister, half a Baratheon." Aliena smiled. _Is he, little swan?_

"Their overlord is Ned Stark, your father's friend. They will bend the knee. And winter is coming, isn't it? The cold will teach them humbleness I am sure."

Joffrey was angry again. "If winter doesn't, I will. My father should but he has grown soft. But I will ride against the Northmen like my father once rode against the Mad King."

 _Aye, we might have a Mad King again then._

"I think we will ride North very soon, my prince, aren't we? After my nameday."

"Yes. I am to take one of Ned Stark's girl for my betrothed. I am sure she will be absolutely plain, my mother said as much about his sister, the one who died."

"Lyanna?" Aliena asked.

"I cannot remember, the Starks are all nothing to me. I do not want to marry that girl. Mother says I should try and pretend though. I will, maybe she can have Tommen. I have set my eyes on another girl…"

 _Aye, and we all know, which._ Aliena said nothing for a moment, apparently lost in the swirls of the water and Joffrey seemed to lose his courage.

"Will there be a tourney for your nameday, like it has been for mine?"

"Of course not, it would be unseemly, my prince. You are the heir to the throne and a warrior. I am only a Lord's daughter and a woman."

"True. You might not extraordinary but to me you are very special. I have a nameday gift crafted for you, I am sure you will be impressed." _Twat. Your mother commissioned it for her._

"I am sure of that, my prince."

A few days later

Aliena

"Please, nuncle, I don't want to marry yet. I am not quite six and ten, it can wait. The queen, my aunt, she was eight and ten when she married you! She said so herself, I am too young, I still need her to teach me how to keep a household, and she said I should not just marry any lord but someone I really want. She was a woman grown but I am still half a child, can't you see-"

 _And you really don't want to be alone under lions, do you uncle?_

"Enough. You are a woman grown and you know you are. It is your sixteenth nameday in a fortnight. You are old enough to marry and there are many young men who would want to make you their wife."

"There will always be men, uncle, old and young, what does it matter? Oh do you not understand? I lost my father before I was even born, my mother when I was not more than a child. You are the only family I have, uncle. Is it wrong that I want to stay with my family for only a few years?"

 _Or forever, if I can manage._

"No, sweetling, I - you...You have a duty to your family. You will hold a keep with your husband and rule over lands and make sure they keep their fealty to the king."

"These are the Septa Elaine's words, aren't they? She said that to me at supper a few nights ago. Oh uncle, had I known that I bother you so much...but of course, you have trueborn children...I will look into the list of suitors. You are right, I am a woman grown. After all my mother was not much older than me when she married and surely you were all very happy to see her off as the lady of her own castle…" _That will suffice._

"Oh, Aliena, my sweet." _Here we go. Uncle has always been the easiest._

"It is just that I could never talk to my mother about this. I wonder whether she would approve…"

"You know what, bugger my lords, bugger your Septa Elaine. You are still young and why should I lock you away, sent you as a gift to some lord who is not going to treat you as well I do?"

Aliena knew she had won. In a small voice she asked "Does that mean you won't send me away this year?"

The king looked at her grimly. "Yes, not this year and not the next year either. Not for a few years. Cersei is right for once, you are not ready and why should we marry you off just because you are old enough? We can give you more than just a little lord's squire son, I think. Aye, for once my wife and I agree so it must be right. Go to bed now, Aliena, it is late. And no more prowling around, the Kingsguard will be patrolling in the corridor of your rooms. And when you meet my son out of bed, tell him the same, your rooms are close enough together."

 _It was not me who decided that and I have a hard time keeping him off my door._ Aliena murmured a "Yes, uncle." And kissed him goodnight.

"See the Lady to her rooms, Clegane."

The Hound had stood still as a column by the door. Now he moved. Aliena followed him silently through the dark corridors of the Red Keep.

"You're very clever, huh?" he started rasping. "But do not get your hopes up, when Ned Stark wants you for his son, or Martell or Tyrell or any of the great Lords, they will give you away anyway."

His tone barely hid his contempt. _What have I done to you?_

"Well, no they won't. Willas Tyrell and Quentin Martell both sent me a letter. They want to marry me. But the king and queen are very gracious to consider my opinion."

The Hound stopped and looked down at her.

"Aye, you got them dancing like puppets aren't you? A few sweet words, a smile or a tear and they do what you want." He sneered at her.

 _I have worked hard enough for that, Hellhound._

"Forgive me if I have offended you, good Ser." _The 'Ser' will make him angry_ "I do not know what you are talking are my aunt and uncle and I love them dearly and I am very thankful they took me in. What is it to you, anyway?"

 _The Hound cannot keep his anger to himself very well, it was known. But why does he have such a temper now? He has often seen me manipulating the king, or Joffrey, or the queen._ Aliena did not know and neither did Sandor Clegane but he remembered the rage that had built in him when the king had talked about never giving her hand to a little lordling, when he had talked about sending her away.

Sandor

He still remembered the little girl in the woods more than six years ago, the way she had looked at him without fear or repulsion. She still did not. She had switched to calling him Hound in her cousin's presence but she still treated him with a nonchalance and fearlessness that made him wonder whether he did something wrong. Most girls her age almost wetted their smallclothes out of fear when he talked to them.

"I am no Ser. And you're nothing to me. I just don't like your lying."

Somehow that seemed important. He knew he shouldn't have said that and for a second, less than that even, he thought he saw pain in her blue-green eyes but she blinked and whatever it was was gone.

She nodded. "Good. Then you can do your duty and accompany me to my chambers. I will ask for another guard from now on, if that pleases you."

 _It does not please me._ Sandor noticed, with utter dismay. He said nothing and escorted her to her chambers in silence.

The hallway where her rooms lay was heavily decorated with tapestries and rugs and hangings, most of them in the red-gold of the Lannisters. All the royal children's rooms lay here and the king had put his sister's daughter in the same wing. Joffrey's door was ajar and he knew the little shit was just waiting for him to leave so he could go over and talk to his cousin. He had always been infatuated with the girl, or with what she pretended to be for him. Sandor remembered how the boy had asked his mother whether he would marry her one day, and Cersei, to everyone's utter surprise, had not said no. By now, Clegane knew why. It was not hard to come by after a few years so close to the queen and her brother. Aliena would give Joffrey legitimation should someone find out The king was not too pleased, though. He loved his eldest son little and his niece with all his heart. "Too old for you, boy", he had said, but what he meant was "too good for you, boy". In the end, it was Aliena herself who had ruined the notion for Joffrey. It was a hare hunt no more than a year ago and she had done her best to hit fewer hare than her cousin, although that was hard enough. He had then spoken of his plans then and left her in shock.

"My gracious prince, there is nothing I would like more than be your wife but you must know that a prince has duties. I am of your blood already, far too close to marry you, in fact. And wedding me would not give you anything, you would gain no stability, quite the contrary. Your father will find you a bride, beautiful and of a great house."

The boy had objected but in the end, he had accepted the fact after he had grasped the fact that he would have his cousin, if he wanted, once he was king.

"A king can take whomever he likes as his mistress, can't he, dog?" The prince had asked him slyly one morning and the Hound had replied: "Aye, where else is the advantage of being king, if not in that?"

He had laughed and the prince had joined but Sandor could have hit himself when he saw how he talked to his cousin later. He often visits her at night but the sly little swan always ordered a guard to be present, to prevent any rumours, she said but he knew full well what it was. The boy prince never showed any sign of lust of wet dreams or infatuations with any other lady but with her. He was a cruel child and would grow into an even crueller man and more than once had he hurt the swan girl, accidentally, as both claimed. She would not marry him, she was too clever to put herself into that situation. She could manage him quite well now that he was still infatuated with her but that would pass and then she was at his mercy...and he had none. No, the little swan would try to stay unmarried and eligible and somehow, Sandor felt a little ... relieved.

He did not explore that feeling any further, he had a few cups of wine in his favourite tavern and found a brave whore that was willing to share her bed with him for a few extra silvers. She insisted on doing it from behind but Sandor did not feel like looking into her face either. He never got the beautiful ones and there was a different image on his mind anyway...long dark hair and those piercing light eyes whose colour he could not quite make out... _Stop. You're drunk and she is a fucking liar and a deceiver and she won't have you in her schemes._ But he could not ban her image from his mind when he spilled his seed in the whore. _Fuck._

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Thank you for reading. The song "Seasons of my Love" is incomplete in ASoIaF and I changed it a bit (the hair colour in the first stanza, I felt brunettes were underepresented^^) and added a refrain. No copyright infringement intended.


	2. Chapter 2

(A Game of Thrones) _On the kingsroad, 298 AC_

-Aliena-

Aliena's nameday had come and passed, she was now a woman grown, more than ready to marry and less than unwilling. She had received lavish gifts from the king and the queen, her uncles Renly Baratheon and Gulian Swann, Lord Arryn the King's Hand and from some other notable courtiers as well. Her uncle Stannis had shown himself frugal again, giving her a set of sewing needles carved from a stag's antlers and a range of yarn in different colours, thread of gold and silver as well. "A woman should know her place." He had said and Aliena almost used the set of two fine silver and Valyrian steel daggers she had got from Joffrey. Stannis did never agree with his brothers in the upbringing of their niece but as always, neither of his brothers listened to him. Cersei had given her a well-stocked jewellry box of mother of pearl and jet with two silver swans on the lid and a golden stag in their middle, as well as rich fabrics and ordered her own seamstress to make gowns for her according to Aliena's wishes. Joffrey had given her a necklace with the daggers, no doubt commissioned by Cersei because it did not feature animal bones, teeth or claws. It was a very tasteful piece, two swans of gold facing each other and forming a heart with their long necks. One was set with moonstones and mother of pearl, the other one with black diamonds and onyx. Her uncle though had bestowed the best gift. He gave her a piece of land. It was not much, a few acres of farmland, a village and a small keep that was little more than a hunting lodge. But the village was situated on an arm of the Blackwater Rush and Aliena knew how much trade control was worth. The Swanns of Stonehelm owed their wealth to the Slayne. This piece of land was her first part of the stormlands and her chance to prove her valor.

Now, though, she sat in a gigantic wheelhouse, her back propped up by pillows and a chalice of watered wine in her hand. They had reached the Neck a few days prior and now they were almost there. Only two nights, three at the most, and they would reach Winterfell, that huge cold fortress that Aliena had heard so much about. And with Winterfell came the Starks. Cersei did not like them but she liked no great family apart from her own. Aliena had heard tales about Ned Stark's loyalty and honour and those things seemed to her as if they could only be true in tales. Barristan Selmy was the only man she knew that was upright and loyal beyond doubt and he loved his blade and his fame and his position more than his king. The Starks promised to be interesting indeed. Night came earlier in the North and they stopped the wagons. Dinner would be served outside, there was not enough space for the whole royal court in any carriage and Aliena was happy to escape the stuffy wheelhouse anyway. She would have much rather ridden and she had, especially at the beginning when they still crossed the crownlands, but the queen had requested her company and so she had stayed, looking out of the window to see lands pass she had never seen before. Aliena had never left the South, she had been to Highgarden once or twice, to keeps in the Stormlands and King's Landing but that was it. The North, or everything North of King's Landing, was a novelty for her and she would have loved to explore it. The only reason why she liked staying in the carriage was the Hound. Since their argument after her discussion with the king about future husbands, she had indeed ordered a different guard to follow her, one of her uncle's Baratheon guards rather than a Lannister. The Hound had been more than just in a foul mood the last times she had seen him and Aliena had tried not to bump into him alone. She was for the first time truly afraid of that man although she was ashamed to admit so. If looks could kill, she would have dropped dead to the floor on a regular basis and every single look he threw at her spoke volumes about his disdain. One time they had been alone, just for a brief moment, she had felt his hatred like fire, burning on her skin. She knew not what she had done to him but she was more disappointed than she should be. He was a monster and not even a knight but she had liked his harsh outspokenness and even his lack of manners, it had been refreshing...there was no use in that though. He hated her and she would not run after him and seek redemption for something that was not even her fault.

They reached the huge site of the dinner, tables and benches were erected and a wooden platform for the king and his family. Cersei stopped to talk to her brother and Aliena went over to her uncle who fed his horse an apple behind one of the waggons. "Good boy you are." _He was always kinder to his horses than to his firstborn. And who could fault him for that?_

"Aliena!" he was pleased to see her. "How was the ride in the wheelhouse? Stuffy and tedious?"

 _You have no idea_

"It was cozy and pleasant although I would have enjoyed riding as well."

"Ride with me tomorrow then, you can keep Joffrey company. He only has that Clegane man as his companion."

 _Not bloody likely._

But the king had something on his mind and he had no confidant since Jon Arryn died. _A stag alone under wolves. How could he let that happen?_

"I do not like how Clegane is the boy's new guard." he said now. "I suggested a dozen good knights, some of them extraordinary and Lannister men to the core, but my darling wife would not have anyone but him. I'm not sure why. Maybe she likes his gruesome looks and that hideous scar of his. And he has a terrible temper as well…"

Aliena chuckled. _Aye, that he has._

"Well, maybe she thinks it takes a beast to fight off a beast. And she has the right of it, normal men are afraid of him. He will guard Joffrey well, I'm certain." The king nodded, lost in thoughts.

Aliena really hoped Ned Stark would accept, for her uncle's sake alone. She turned around to go back to the others when she saw a huge shadow walking away briskly on the far side of the waggon. _Did he hear us?_ The waggon was long but the sounds of the bustling court were muffled here. And the Hound had the senses of a dog. _Well,even if he did, he cannot be surprised I think about him like that the way he has treated me over the last weeks._ But an uneasy feeling remained in her stomach and she could not enjoy the dinner. That night, she lay in her featherbed in the queen wheelhouse, the moonlight pouring through the cracks in the window, and she could not take her mind off the Hound. He had arrived in King's Landing not long before her and he had always remained an outsider. People had told her stories about him, how he looked like the stranger come to life, like a monster. But she was disappointed. True, his burned face was everything but pretty with its black charred flesh and the red and clear liquids still oozing from the wounds. But the other half was more comely than many men she had seen in King's Landing and there had always been a rage and a pain in his eyes, those few times he let his guard down, that she had found intriguing. He was the only halfway honest person she knew and for a girl who had grown up with lies that was perhaps the most fascinating. When she finally drifted off to sleep she dreamt of pain and fire and him.

The next morning held a very unpleasant surprise. They had hardly even started when Aliena and the queen's entourage in the carriage heard a loud "crack" and the carriage came to a sudden halt. One of the wheels of the great wheelhouse was broken beyond repair and two others were not quite intact either. It would take the men most of the day to fix that. The king was angry but he consoled himself with a hunt, just him and a few of his men. The Prince was to stay with his mother and so was Aliena. Cersei sat in the wheelhouse with some of her ladies and her children and had tea while Joffrey practised his sword fighting. Aliena could not stand being inside anymore, so she asked for permission to leave and promised not to stray far from the king's trail.

She walked along the path at first, picking flowers but then she ventured into the woods. She would not go far and she had always loved the silent presence of trees, she almost felt their eyes on her as she walked. Every time she was in a forest she wondered what those trees might have seen. Wars, surely, death and love and loyalty, treason and honour. She had read that there were trees that were over 300 years old, some had even seen the first men...

Aliena did not watch the path and when the sun had risen high and sunken lower again, she found herself quite deep in the forest already. She could have slapped herself for being so foolish. This was not the woods at home and there were creatures her she did not know. She walked back quickly into the direction where she thought she had come from but she could not find the path. Slowly, panic rose in her stomach. No one would miss her, it was only a little past noon and the king would not even have returned from the hunt. But more than once had she heard a rustling and she had the feeling that she was not alone with the trees. There was a faint clattering noise in the distance. _A woodpecker, nothing more._

She reached a clearing that she remembered and was positive the she would find her way out now when it happened. She saw only one at first, yellow eyes and shaggy grey fur, about the size of a big dog. She knew she should not run so she fought every instinct and walked backwards slowly. Then she heard a low growl and turned her head in horror. She was surrounded by wolves, at least six of them. And they looked hungry. _Eaten by wolves on the way to the Starks. That will make for a great song._

She looked for something she could defend herself with and found the dagger in her cloak pocket. she clutched the blade hoping that today, the Warrior would also defend women. The wolf reacted to the movement of her arm, he leapt forward and in the same moment she heard the clattering sound again, close this time, very close and before the wolf reached her, an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her up. Not a second too early, for now the wolf's teeth brushed against the arm but could find no hold on the ringmail.

She found herself half sitting, half lying on Stranger, the Hound's horse, held up there by the Hound's arm. _Oh Gods be good, I want the wolves back._ They had leapt after the horse but fallen back after a while and now she only heard them howling. Aliena dared not to speak. The Hound did not wear his horrible helmet for a change but Aliena wished he did. Every single pore of his face signalised anger, fury. Even the burned half seemed to radiate rage. They came to a halt at the edge of the forest and Aliena saw some of the waggons stand on the road. _These are storage waggons. We are at the end of the train._ That knowledge helped her little though, for Sandor Clegane pulled her off the horse like a sack of flour and held her by the shoulders in a painfully tight grip.

"What were you fucking thinking?" He didn't even shout but it was the most frightening thing Aliena had ever heard. His voice was rasping and low and she heard the rage under those words in an edge to his tone that was sharp as a blade. His eyes stared her down, the grey like molten steel and hot rage in both of them. Aliena did not even know what to say. She had been an idiot and there was no defending that. If she could just stop him from telling the king and queen...but she knew she had no way of reaching him with promises and sweet words. Only the truth could help her now and even then…

"I… I wasn't thinking."

"Damn right. Little fool, that is what you are, running around in a bloody forest where wolves aren't even the worst fucking thing."

 _He means outlaws. Murderers, rapists, poachers, robbers._ She felt incredibly stupid. The woods where she had gone hunting with the king were quite safe.

"You know that the only reason that you're still bloody alive is that you surprised them?" She did. His gaze went down the front of plain grey wool dress and then he saw the dagger in her hand.

"What were you bloody thinking? Sticking this up their throat once they had a good bite of you?"

What else should she have done?

"What would you have done then?" She asked, her senses coming back.

"You're a _lady_." he spat the word out. "You're no good for anything. I would have killed them, one by one. But you should have bloody run with those long legs of yours."

"I once read-"

"Ah, so you want to go back and fight them with a bloody book? You thought you could make them dance with a song of yours? A few sweet words and the beasts are gone?" He mocked her but let go of her, and turned around.

"Please, don't-"

He looked at her, a scornful joyless smile on his face. "You worried I'll tell your lovely aunt? Or your uncle? Is the little lady scared they will be disappointed? Don't puzzle your pretty little head over that. I won't sing. I don't do it for you, bugger you. I don't want the hassle. And now go, before I change my mind. And stay to the bloody path, girl."

He had turned around but she knew she could not just go.

"I...I owe you my life. I don't know why you were in the forest but if had not been there, I would be dead now. I thank you. Wholeheartedly. If there is anything I can do-"

"It takes a beast to fight off a beast." His tone was ice cold. It sent a shiver down her spine. _I screwed it up, entirely. I insulted him yet he is here, yet he saved me._

"I shouldn't have said-"

"No, you had the right of it, just don't doubt your own little words. I am a killer. A murderer. I love killing. There is nothing sweeter. I am a monster." He had come closer to her and she had walked backwards until her back hit the wood of a waggon. "Scared of me finally, huh? Good. You should be. I am just as horrible as you think, even worse."

He stood in front of her, he did not touch her but she felt the heat radiating from his body in the chilly air. The sun had almost sunken and it's red light grazed the right side of his face and turned it a deep red, the black standing out prominently.

"I do not think you are a monster. I lied. You do everything to create that impression. I know you are no septon. You enjoy killing because you think it is the only thing you're good at. We all enjoy what we are good at. And no one knows what you had to go through, no one knows about the reasons for your scars, no one but-"

She felt his hands tighten around her wrists like iron. _That will bruise._ His face was only a few inches away from hers and she smelled wine on his breath. _Is he always drunk?_

He looked her in the eyes, steel grey met seagreen. "If you ever tell-"

"You will kill me, I know. You said as much- I am a fool but I will never give that away. I swear it."

"I shit on your oaths, your words are worth nothing." She felt his body pressing against hers, her wrists in his iron grip, her face upturned so close that their noses almost touched.

"My words have no worth, fair enough. My oath does."

His face was a bleak mask again and gave nothing away but his eyes did not hide his emotions that well. She looked into them and found that the fury had almost gone. Instead there was a pain so overwhelming that she felt it as well and something else, something she couldn't quite place at first. Then it dawned on her. There was lust in his eyes and a tingly sensation spread through her body. They were so close, she could have kissed him. What an absurd idea...but a part of her wondered how it would feel like to be kissed by a man. A man like him. _Don't. He wants you because he is drunk and you are tolerably pretty. He will want more than just a kiss anyway. Give yourself away for a man who would be back in a whore's bed tomorrow? Not a good idea at all. He hates you and he will never respect you, all he wants is what is between your legs._ She resisted temptation and felt his grip loosen.

"Go." he hissed, under his breath, in a voice low and hoarse. "Now."

She hurried away, towards to queen's wheelhouse, resisting the temptation to look back.

"Aliena! It is almost evening. Where have you been for so long? I almost had men looking for you."

Cersei looked not amused at all. _She can never know._

"Why, aunt, I was just walking. How was it here? Is the wheelhouse fixed?"

Cersei gave her a measuring look. "You look really exhausted. You won't go walking tomorrow. I have need of your company, all my ladies are empty headed idiots." Aliena laughed and agreed, thankful for an excuse not to ride withthe king and Joff and _him_ tomorrow.

Joffrey turned up. "Did you enjoy your walk, cousin?" he asked her but he did not even wait for a reply. "Did you see my dog? He went to the armory, he said but I cannot find him. A Prince should not have to go looking for his dog. He is gone for hours."

Cersei touched his shoulder. "You had your uncle Jaime, Joff. He is surely better than Sandor Clegane."

"I actually saw him at the armoury. Maybe he went and talked to the guard about the patrols?" Aliena suggested.

Cersei did not pay attention anymore, she had a short attention span indeed. "Come now, Aliena, we have to get ready for dinner. I dread Winterfell but I will also be relieved that I do not have to dine outside anymore. It's getting colder with every mile, I swear. Soon we will have snow in summer."

Aliena followed. _He neglected his duty because he knew I would go into the woods. He feared for me. Does he really care? Or is he just trying to prove me wrong? Make me taste the bitterness of my own words?_ Aliena decided that maybe he wanted to return a favour she had once done him a few years ago. _Yes. He dislikes me and he cannot bear owing me. Now he is free._ She shook her head. _No more thoughts about him. Keep focussed._

She dressed for the evening in black and white, the colours of her House but on the dais, she found it hard to concentrate on the prince's words.

"What is it? You behave strangely. You do not even listen to me and I demand your full attention." Joffrey grew angry quickly and Aliena scolded herself for being so preoccupied.

"Forgive me, my prince, I am just tired from the walk. What were you saying?"

But Joffrey would not repeat his words. "If you are that tired, perhaps you should go to bed." Aliena knew that she did not have to. But it was a perfect way out.

"My Prince is too kind. I promise I will not disappoint you on the morrow. I will ride in the wheelhouse and I would be glad if my prince could keep me company in the morning." _We all know how much you love the comfort of the carriage._

Joffrey wasn't softened now but Aliena knew she would have him soft as a boiled egg by noon tomorrow.

"Goodnight, my Prince." she kissed him on the cheek, a token of her affection, then she bid her aunt good night. Her uncle had already left for other amusements.

"Dog, see my cousin to her waggon." _NO._ But what could she do? The prince was angered already, refusing his sworn guard would make the situation even worse. She curtsied as gracefully as she managed

"Thank you, my prince. Your concern is truly touching." Joffrey nodded. By tomorrow, he would have almost forgiven her, she just needed to say the words and he would be hers again. She knew the game.

Aliena followed Clegane through the night. It was full dark now, only the moon was there to light the way. Clegane staggered but she still found it hard to keep up with his pace. There were few guards at the waggons, most of them were either at the feast or guarded the head and the end of the trail. Patrolling guards passed by them but as soon as they recognized Clegane's helmet, they hurried past as if their life depended on it. Clegane had not said a word but he took frequent sips from his wine skin. _Back to normal, are we?_ He had been present in Aliena's thoughts for so long now that she could not just walk in silence.

"I need to thank you again. If there is something I can do for you, something I can get you as a token of my gratitude-"

They had not yet reached the queen's wheelhouse. Clegane turned around and took off his helmet. When she saw his face, she knew why he had staggered. He was drunk, very drunk. More so than usually.

"I certainly didn't ask to see you safely to bed. But here we are, again. Just shut your bloody mouth I cannot bear your words anymore." _He is definitely not interested. What did I even think?_

But for once, she made no objection and followed him silently. The way was twice as long as Aliena had thought. No word was spoken but the air was filled with suppressed aggression. At last, they reached the wheelhouse, standing on a field surrounded by waggons. He stopped at the door, the guard that watched it had fled when he saw the Hound facial expression in the dim lights of two torches.

"Now be a good girl and go to bed as your prince ordered." he rasped in a sneering tone.

Aliena did not have a reply, he was right, that was exactly what she was about to do. The air was cold and ice covered the stairs to the wheelhouse, ice on which Aliena's velvet slippers found no halt. Quite ungracefully, she slipped and held onto the only thing in her reach: The Hound's shoulder, clad in steel so cold that her hand almost froze. His hands wrapped about her waist, holding her once again. The dog's helmet had fallen into the dirt where it lay now, forgotten. On the stairs, she was about the same height as the Hound, looking him straight in the eye. His gloved hands held her waist painfully tightly and she felt their warmth even through her corset. Cloudy grey eyes met her, phantoms in them from the wine.

"You could try not to get yourself into trouble all the time, you know." he rasped, his voice filled with scorn and mockery.

"You would have nothing to do anymore." There was a hint of amusement in his eyes but it did not reach his mouth. In the light of the torches, the liquid in his facial wounds glistened. _He would not have been uncomely._ Aliena realised. He had a gaunt face with a heavy brow, high and sharp cheekbones and a strong, hooked nose. _Maybe it was broken once._

His features were too sharp, too pronounced to be considered handsome but Aliena had never liked the type of man that was widely considered handsome. She had never felt her heartbeat quicken when Jaime Lannister was around, or Renly or Loras Tyrell or even Joffrey. But right now, right here, with this man whose face was half tolerable at the most and half gruesome at the least, she felt her heart pounding in her chest and it was not fear.

He looked at her with a hardly concealed hunger. _He wants me. But it has nothing to do with my person. He is desperate for a woman. Maybe I am the first he has touched in weeks._ Aliena had never thought about that. Surely there were not many whores who would take him. Sure, they were trained to make love to handsome men and ugly men alike but the Hound was not even ugly. His face was hideous but he was also a beast of a man. Many women would be afraid of his size alone, his cruelty and his voice…

"What are you thinking?" It was this rasping, low voice that could send a man running. _Why does he ask me?_ She did not know what to say, no clever words would come to her mind, so she stayed silent hoping he would just let go but of course, he didn't.

"Don't wanna tell me, huh, little swan? Don't worry, you would not want to know my thoughts right now either." He laughed, low and joyless and then he let go of her waist.

"Go in and sleep, little swan. Hope you have sweet dreams. Nightmares, more like it." _He thinks I thought about how hideous his face is. He thinks I am repelled._ He turned around, but she grabbed him by the arm. There was a look of utter surprise on his face when he wheeled around at the sudden touch.

"You are not the stuff that my nightmares are made of." she said and opened the door of the wheelhouse, leaving him standing in the light of the torches.


	3. Chapter 3

~Flashback~

 _King's Landing, 295 AC_

 _Sandor_

He had been ordered to escort the royal children to their chambers, once again. He felt like a bloody wet nurse these days, surrounded by children. He escorted the little swan girl to her room, checked inside for intruders and was about to walk back out on the corridor when a small voice asked

"Why did your brother burn your face so badly?" Sandor felt rage rise in him, hot and boiling. _This is the king's niece._ He warned himself. But to no avail.

"It was your brother, wasn't it?" He wheeled around in his heavy armour, his vision blurred. The girl had not time to run, he was there, his hand around her neck.

"How can you know? I never told anyone. How? who told you?" he shook her.

"No one. I figured it out…" her voice was faint and breathless from his grip, he came to his senses and let go.

"How?" He demanded, retaining an iron grip of her shoulder.

"You hate him. That is why you don't want to be a knight. Because your brother is one and you never want to be like _him_. He was the one that burned you. Your bedding caught fire, Jaime said when I asked him. But that is a lie, isn't it. You would have woken up from that and run. Someone held you. And you were a child, younger than me, when that happened. Jaime said you always had those scars and he saw you in the first battle you ever fought. That's how I know. I swear, no one said anything." Her voice had grown bolder but under his gaze, she shrunk again.

 _Good ,be afraid, girl. If it wasn't for your uncle, I would kill you._

"You got it all figured out nicely, didn't you? Thought a lot about my scars, did you? Every time you see me standing next to your cousin you wonder how I got those hideous burns?"

"I-"

"If you ever say to anyone what you just said…I swear, I promise, I will kill you, and if it is the last thing I do."

"I will not, never. I swear. I never meant to. I just wanted to know…"

"Nothing. Never ask me that again, you will regret it."

But the little girl was fierce and she was not used to being denied a reply.

"Why? Why do you not tell anyone? No one would think less of you, just of your bro-"

"Never. mention. it. again." _Because I armoured myself in it, because it makes me vulnerable and I will never be vulnerable again._ Thankfully, the girl just nodded. He saw a red line on her neck. _I strangled her._ She saw his gaze and went over to her looking glass.

"It will bruise." Her voice was very matter of fact. "If I tell the truth, you will get executed."

Probably. Certainly.

"And now you want to blackmail me?" He snorted. "I'd rather die."

 _He could flee, though. The Free Cities, a sellsword army maybe._ He was good at fighting, even better at killing. If he could make it out of the city before the little girl sung…

"I don't want to blackmail you. I will lie for you. I am not a killer." She stood there in her ivory silk dress, almost two feet shorter than him and looked at him coolly.

"You can go now." He did not know what to say anyway. _She shouldn't have asked._

"Aliena, you will tell me where you got that bruise. Now!" Sandor has just come from guard duty and went past the king's chamber on the way to the throne room. He heard the king's booming voice and stopped to listen.

"I told you already. I slept with a necklace that wrapped around my neck too tightly."

 _A feeble story indeed._

"And I told you, that is a lie. That bruise comes from hands."

"No!" she almost shouted.

"If it was Joffrey, Aliena…" And the penny dropped. Her implausible lie would incriminate Joffrey. The boy had bestowed numerous bruises on his cousin, although he was barely ten. She had lied about them every time but the king had found out the truth once or twice through servants. Joffrey had denied it but once, the king had put him in his chambers for a week. Aliena had sprung him out.

 _She is clever._ This time, the king and queen would blame Joffrey again.

"No, it was not. Please, uncle, he would not do such a thing.."

"He has. I understand that you want to protect him but this will not make it better. Aliena, you will stay in your room until you tell me the truth."

 _Why does he have a bloody fit of fatherly strictness now?_ He felt uncomfortable. The girl lied to protect him. If he went to confess...he would die. He could leave now and never come back but the girl had said the words and in the end she would get punished for protecting a soldier. No, the best way was to go through with it. Her uncle would get soft, he always did. The queen would make sure that hers was a gentle prison, with those books she loved and gifts. The girl protected her monster of a son and she loved her for it. Aliena was used to spending a day or two in her chambers, her uncle could not punish her harder than that. It would not be different this time.

The king had ordered guards at his niece's door and Sandor drew first watch. He heard them inside.

"Aliena, I know you think you can help Joff like this… Your loyalty and morals cannot be questioned. I am proud of you, like your mother would be. But he will do it again if I do not punish him. And if you do not speak the truth-"

"I do speak the truth, uncle."

"Damn- I am the king and you lie to my face?"

"Loyalty and integrity are the most important virtues of a dutiful subject. Your Grace." Her voice shook only a little.

"This time you will stay here, and if you spend your next nameday in here, I will know the truth from you. Gods, I will have you wed in here if I must!"

The king stormed out of the door. Aliena sat on her bed like a statue. She had not cried, though. His chest tightened.

 _I stand here like a bloody coward, hiding behind a girl. I cannot abide it. Yet, I must, and she must as well. No one will win if anyone finds out it was me. And me she lied for._ " _I will have you wed in here"...she will turn fourteen soon. Almost a woman grown._

The queen came to her chambers not much later, with a serving girl and the maester's boy in tow. The girl brought sweets and nuts and cheese, orange juice and watered wine. The boy carried a pile of books and scrolls. Both of them left quickly.

"Aliena, my sweet, it is very brave of you to protect Joffrey from his father's wrath. He is very thankful for your loyalty."

 _Sure he is. That's why he is here. He doesn't even know it wasn't him, I'm sure._ Indeed, the prince had thanked the girl by sending her a hare, impaled with an arrow. To others, it looked like a threat but the boy had given his father an unborn kitten and meant it as a gift. The hare was a peace treaty. Cersei continued, the door slightly ajar.

"I brought you some books, the maester said those are the ones you love most. He gave you some new ones as well and some in Valyrian. He said…a tongue is like a sword arm-"

"If you don't train it, it will be good for eating only." The girl finished the sentence with a little laugh. "I know. I shall practise my Valyrian. How is Joffrey?"

"He fares well but he misses you dearly. Myrcella wants to come and see you some time."

"Of course, she is very welcome. I won't be going anywhere in the near future." Aliena said it in a casual tone but there was a subtle edge to it.

"Robert is very upset, indeed. But he will see that your loyalty is something to be proud of."

"He just wishes I was more loyal to him than I am to...others." the girl said.

The little pause did not go unnoticed.

"Joffrey is your cousin, as close to you as a brother." _You have no idea. Your type of brother, maybe._

 _The Queen continued:_ "He is also your future king and Robert's son. He will come to his senses. In the meantime, my servants will care for your every need."

 _Aliena_

Aliena lead quite a quiet but nevertheless pleasant life over the next week. She had a spacious bedchamber with long, high windows that looked out over the sea. Her bed was a four poster with black and gold drapes, her desk stood in front of one of the windows, a high-backed chair behind it. A group of easy chairs, a small dining table between them and two matching dressers completed the interior. A door led to her dressing chamber and from there, another led to her privy.

It was a gentle prison but Aliena missed the exercise of running up and down staircase, walking through the beautiful gardens between Maegor's Holdfast and the Castle Wall. But most of all did she miss her filly, Syrax, riding through the woods like the wind, hunting with the king. She had always loved being outside. She had spent her first days reading, talking to the queen and some servants, lying to the king and reading again.

Then she started translating, the maester had brought her some books and she sent her transcripts back to him. She expected to be freed after a week but the king could not be convinced.

"You will stay here until I have the truth." he had said.

"Why don't you just lock me up in the Maidenvault then?" Aliena had replied, but the king had scared her with his next announcement.

"Who says you will stay a maiden? There are many men who want to see their wives only in the bedchamber." Robert had been drunk by then and she had seen his remorse the next day when he sat with her to break his fast but he stayed iron.

Another week had passed, Aliena had translated every Valyrian scroll the master had given her. She had asked for something in Myrish or Braavosi Valyrian to make it more interesting but even those sat on a pile of scrolls next to her desk. She was utterly bored

The king came to pay her a visit in the evening which led to another argument. He felt she undermined his authority and she felt he did not appreciate her loyalty for his son (as he was still convinced that Joffrey was guilty). Sometimes, she almost believed the lie, so often had she told it. But not once did she regret lying for him.

The king was shouting now: "I have enough. Everyone lies to me in this dreaded city but my own blood! You should not be like them. You are from the stormlands and we are upright. You will stay here until the last of my days. You will marry your husband in here, bear children in here and grow old in here."

"I could throw myself from my window, just like Ashara Dayne did, or Princess Gael or Queen Helaena and her daughter!" she had said, and the next morning, her uncle came in with Ser Mandon Moore who looked like a corpse in his white cloak.

"A knight of my guard with keep watch here, day and night. Don't even try to go near the windows." Aliena had not considered flinging herself onto the spikes in the moat around Maegor's Holdfast. Jaehaera Targaryen had lived for an hour in absolute pain before she died and anyway, Aliena was sure she could reach her uncle with words...she just needed to find the right ones.

She grew accustomed to sleep with a knight standing vigil at the door. She drew the bed's black and gold curtains and shut them out. Her dressing chamber had a smaller window anyway and a few bars were added for safety. On the third evening, she came from her dressing chamber in her nightgown to see _him_ standing by the door. _Oh Gods be good. Why?!_

He did not wear his helmet, it lay on the dresser next to him, and she saw his gaze gliding over her body which was barely concealed by the sheer white linen. She said nothing and after a second his gaze went back to the wall and he ignored her. She drew the thin summer curtains that allowed a breeze from the open window to cool her in her sleep and laid back on the white silk sheets. But his presence was overwhelming and she could not find sleep. He breathed loudly and she tried to concentrate on the rhythm after she had tried to sleep for more than an hour.

"I was six. A woodcarver who had started a shop in the village near my father's keep sent us toys to buy my father's favour."

Aliena laid still, fearing that any movement could stop him from speaking about that incident.

"I don't even remember what I got anymore, it was Gregor's toy that I wanted. A wooden soldier, painted and with flexible joints so that you could make him fight like a real man. Gregor' s five years older than me, he was already a squire, towering over grown men. The toy was nought to him. I played with it but I was so scared he would find me that there was no joy in it. Find me he did. He did not say a word, he just picked me up and shoved me into the brazier, pressed my face into the glowing coals while I screamed and screamed. It took three grown men to drag him off me.

Some men claim they have been to hell and back. Septons preach there are seven. But there is only one and only those that have been burnt truly know what hell feels like." His rasping voice was low and oddly calm, as if he felt dead inside. Aliena did not know what to do. She had known it was his brother but she had never imagined… When she was younger, her mother had taken her down to the village at the foot of Storm's End, just like she went to Flea Bottom these days. Her mother had talked to the children and the woman that lived there had taken her to the hearth where she had cooked a stew. Aliena had touched the huge cauldron by accident, she remembered the pain in the palm of her hand, the burn blister that had formed.

An image came to her mind, a young Sandor Clegane with an innocent boyish face, pressed into red hot coals, screaming and crying, his brother looming over him like the Stranger in person. _He wants to kill him. That is why he stays. He trains and lives until he gets his chance._ A tear rolled out of the corner of her eye, down her temple and then seeped away into the pillow. She stayed behind the curtains but she felt oddly close to him despite the physical distance.

The next morning, Ser Roger Caron, a stormlander, stood next to the door when she opened the curtains. She was relieved, their closeness was a thing of the night, of the dark and the hidden, it was too fragile for daylight and confrontation.

Her uncle came to her rooms in the evening. During the day, she had written a poem, not a good one, and a short history of the House Baratheon. That had given her an idea...So when her uncle asked her for the truth again, she replied:

"I am a Baratheon of Storm's End, I am a Storm's daughter. We have stood our ground for centuries, braved even the wildest and most destructive of storms. We are made from the mighty oak and not from the willow. That is what my Lady Mother used to say and I will live by her words. You can imprison me, you can marry me off but you cannot bend me." Her uncle had looked at her, his face still as stone and Aliena thought for a moment he would hit her.

"You are so very much like your mother. She would be proud of you. Seven hells, I am. Family first. You are only three and ten and you are more steadfast than any of my own bloody men." _Thank the Gods._ She embraced her uncle.

"Thank you."

 _Sandor_

He told her. He had never told anyone. Some knew, those men that had dragged Gregor off him, maybe his father had told someone before he died...but he had never said a word to anyone but her. Hopefully, she knew to keep quiet. He knew she would.

He sat in the guards' hall on one of the lower tables where no one bothered him, wineskin in hand. Some knights were there too, this night. Ser Boros had stood guard when the king came to see her and he told everyone who wanted to hear it what the girl had said.

"I am made from the oak and not the willow." he bellowed drunkenly from the higher tables, where he often drank with some of the gold cloaks before going to the silk street later. "She can try my mighty oak if she wants to."

Some of the men hooted in agreement.

"She's grown into quite some woman...a few more years and I'll make her mine. The Prince won't take her and why let that cunt go to waste?" a blonde guard bawled.

"Why wait? She's a fresh young flower now, and a virgin. I say pluck her before she wilts." Boros replied. "My oak will please her so much, she will be desperate for a cock once I have left. She might even consider willows. Maybe you can go second, Wilton", he japed.

Sandor rose from his seat on the bench and walked over to Boros and his companions. The laughter had ebbed away. _Ser_ Boros was a coward and he looked up at him with barely concealed fear. _Wet your smallclothes already?_

"I am sure if _Lady_ Aliena wants a twig and not a stem, she'll come to you, Blount. As long as she doesn't, you better keep your bloody hands off her, or it will be the last time you've had hands."

He turned to walk away. The guard's pesky voice hurt in his ears.

"Why, Hound, didn't know you want her, too. We can share between the three of us, I'm sure. You can get her ass, we don't want her to be forced to look at your face, do we?" There was a loud crunch when the guard's nose broke, and another when he lost some of his teeth. Sandor shook his hand, brushed the blood off his knuckles and left the guards' hall, his wine skin in one hand, the other one on his sword hilt. No one came after him, though, and he went to his sleeping cell, a small room that contained only a narrow bed, a chest at its foot and a table with one chair. He should not have done that. Boros would not report him, he would get banned and humbled for his talk, same with the other...but he should not have shown _feelings_. He remembered her in that nightgown, budding teats and rounding hips under sheer linen. His groin had stirred and he had to face the other way to keep himself focused. A _few years and she will be a fantasy come to flesh._

He had heard how she swayed the king. "I am from the oak and not the willow, like my mother." She had been a clever child who easily won people's hearts with a smile and a few words.

She would turn into a woman who plays men like a fiddle, aye, and women, too. The queen already ate from the palm of her hand and others would follow. He did not know how she did it but she knew exactly what to say to make them trust her. Not always nice things, sometimes she had been harsh with the boy, even with her aunt. But they all started to trust her and confide in her and sooner or later, they loved her. He had confided his story to her. What did that mean for the future?


	4. Chapter 4

~flashback~

291 AC, King's Landing

Sandor

Aliena was not yet ten and she rode like she had been born on a horse that was at least what her uncle said. At the moment, Aliena was flying through the woods near King's Landing on her first proper horse, a strong white filly. She heard her uncle shout behind her, the voices of the small hunting party the king had assembled sounded muffled through the green leaves that shielded her from view. She did not hear the king's command:

"Clegane, get her. Frighten her a little, if you must. She is as wild as her mother, just the same temper as … well. Don't be too harsh. She is only a little girl." The Hound obeyed its master.

His dark courser was heavier than the filly, and stronger as well but not as quick, especially with its heavily armoured rider. But he reached the little girl after a while, she was resting her white beauty at a pool on a little clearing when the Hound came in heavy galop. The filly was scared and pranced nervously.

"I know you have come to take me but please be quiet! She is scared and I love her much."

But Sandor Clegane was a foul-tempered man at 21 already and he was not used to being told to be quiet by a nine year old. His warhorse was heavy on its feet and the sound of clanging ringmail contributed to the filly's fear. It sprang away, as quick and as light as a doe. The girl was sad beyond belief.

"You scared her! Oh, she was my first horse and she moved quicker than river water. I have not even found a name for her yet." "

Good. Because the horse in gone now anyway."

Sandor sat the child on his horse and attempted to turn around.

"This was the king's horse, a gift for my ninth name day. I have to find it or he will be very cross with me. I cannot stand it when he is cross with me. Please, please help me find it."

The girl turned in the saddle, almost standing now and about the same height as Sandor was sitting. She looked him in the eye now for the first time, determined and fearless, did not even seemed to notice the scars.

"Do you have nothing you love?" she asked, her voice desperate and her blue-green eyes shining.

"No. And now turn around, we have to reach the riding party."

"I will not. You scared her and I have not even found a name for her." This somehow was important. "She will die here, people will eat her!"

Aliena was a clever child and an orphan. She knew far more about the city and its surroundings than her royal cousins.

"You should not have left her untied then."

"You should have just been quiet. It is your fault as much as mine!"

And to his despair, the little girl started to sob. He could not return to the king with a crying girl on his lap who told him that he drove off her little filly, the king's gift. He turned his horse, silently and directed it back into the direction where it came from.

"Oh, I thank you! You are very knightly indeed!" Sandor would have almost turned round again.

The filly had found a little brook not far from the clearing where she had lost her nerves.

"Let me get off. I will go to her alone."

And Aliena slid down the horse and landed lightly on her feet. Clegane watched the girl with a mixture of annoyance and astonishment as she lured the horse into their direction. She grabbed the reins firmly and mounted on alone with only little difficulty. Her light little horse fell in next to Sandor's dark courser.

"What do you think should I name her? I have thought about Visenya, Aegon the Conqueror's warrior wife, the one he loved less. But then I also like Rhaenyra. You know?"

He said nothing in response which Aliena took as a no.

"The princess that grew up to be the Queen but then, when her father died, her evil little half-brother and his mother stole the throne from her together with the man that she rejected. They stole her throne and her crown but she fought valiantly and in the end, her son became king. She was dead by then, though. But her side won the Dance of Dragons. So it is either Visenya or Rhaenyra but that is both rather a mouthful-"

Aliena chattered happily and seemed not to notice that Clegane did not listen intently.

"...and so I thought, maybe the name of their dragons? So Vhagar or Syrax. Of course a dragon is a lot more impressive because of all the fire-"

"I don't like fire." Clegane's voice was rasping and low, his tone abrupt. Aliena looked at him, curiously.

"I see. You are happy all the dragons died then?" Clegane did not answer.

"Well, I think I will name her Syrax. It is short enough and pretty and Rhaenyra loved her dragon as much as I love my filly."

Again, Sandor did not honour her thoughts with a reply but she expected none. She was used to being overheard and so she just continued, chatting and muttering to herself until they reached the king. Clegane was relieved to be back with grown men again. Women and children were not his strong point, even more so children that he was expected to be kind to.

But he could not deny that he did not find the girl as horrible and thoughtless and vain as other little girls. And she had looked him in the eye. "Frighten her a little", the king had said, and he had thought that his face and temper and voice alone were enough but she had not been afraid, only angry and concerned. The king scolded his niece but with a chuckle in the corner of his mouth and a spark in his blue eyes. He loved her more than his own children and there was nothing he did not forgive her. The four years younger Prince Joffrey could barely sit straight on his pony but Aliena complimented him on his riding coat and let him win in a race. Clegane sat on his horse with his usual sullen face, the thoughts cloudy and dark. He had come to King's Landing when had been little more than a boy, a squire sent from Casterly Rock to join the queen and her brother. He had worked for his position in Prince Joffrey's guard hard enough. But riding out with a fat blustering oaf of a king, his lackwit riding party of pampered lords and ladies that avoided so much as looking at him, and guarding a little shit of a prince who would have needed a good beating instead of gifts and compliments was really not something he enjoyed. _There should be war all the time. The Greyjoy rebellion is too long ago already and tourneys and melees are for polished little lordlings._ But he had made all the gold he had in tourneys and jousts. For a second son of a landed knight, that was the only chance to acquire some gold, at least. And Sandor had nowhere else to go, just like the little girl, King's Landing was the only place for him. So he would stay.


	5. Chapter 5

Hello! This is a short one, followed by a long one! Please review if you like the story, and please review if you do not like it, I am very open to criticism of any kind! Thank you, hopefully you enjoy.

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Winterfell, 298 AC

Aliena

The royal retinue had arrived at Winterfell and Aliena had explored the castle and its ground. It dwarfed the Red Keep but it was also more primitive. The godswood was impressive and beautiful but the buildings were sturdy and rough. They were warm and comfortable enough, for sure, but they lacked the beauty and elegance of the rooms in the Red Keep. She had a generously sized bedchamber in the guest house, close to that of Joffrey….and Sandor Clegane. They had not talked privately since he had seen her to the queen's carriage but he was still on her mind. He had gone back to normal though, he treated her with his normal scornful demeanor, not worse or better than others. _He doesn't care a fig for me. And why would he, anyway?_ He had been dangerous and intriguing, he still was. There was something that drew her towards him, irrationally. But she did not attach too much importance to that. He was the first man she could not control and that was all there was to it, she was sure. There was no other reason to find him interesting at all. She just had to find something else to occupy herself with.

Aliena sat in the morning room of the Guest House, breaking her fast on bread, cheese and watered wine, when Cersei came in with Myrcella. Tommen and Joffrey had left early in the morning to practise their sword fighting in the yard with Ned Stark's boys.

"Good morning, Your Grace." Aliena rose to make room for Myrcella to come and sit next to her on the bench and rang for a serving girl.

"Good Morning." The queen took her seat at the head of the table.

"Are you going to do needlework with myrcella this morning? She will sit with the Stark girls and their septa."

"If you want me to, I shall. Joffrey asked me to watch the fights in the yard, though." The queen seemed content with that.

"I will sent some ladies with you then, Myrcella. Aliena, tell me how Joffrey does. I would not like the prince to lose against a Stark." Cersei spat the name out like poison.

"I am sure he will not." Aliena said, kindly.

"You will motivate him, I am sure." Cersei said, faintly smiling. There was nothing to say to that.

 _True. But he will still lose and then it is me who has to find an explanation for him._

"What are you going to pass your morning with, Your Grace? Is it not dreadfully boring for you? My uncle spends more time with Ned Stark than with his own family."

 _And who can fault him for that._ The queen snorted.

"He calls him his brother. He already has four brothers, two by birth and two by marriage. Soon every man in the seven kingdoms will be kin to the king."

The maid brought the food for the queen and the little princess.

"I will write some letters. My father asked how the journey went. Tedious but necessary." _So, you will spend the morning with Jaime, huh?_

Aliena went over into the yard after she had broken her fast. Joffrey and Tommen stood on one side with some Lannister knights and squires and… the Hound. Joffrey eyed Robb Stark maliciously. Aliena wore a gown of white velvet with golden embroidery and she shone like a star in the muddy yard. She felt the men's eyes following her as she went over to the prince.

"My prince. What a fine morning to fight a Stark."

"You mean what a fine morning to beat a Stark, dear cousin. He stands no chance." Joffrey grinned smugly.

"I am sure of that, my prince. The best thing you can say about Robb Stark is that he doesn't look like his father. I heard the Northerners claim to have giant's blood. I wonder… once they ran out of giants to mate with, the Starks must have settled on horses."

Joffrey laughed.

"Northmen really claim to have giant's blood? I have never heard such a foolish thing."

Aliena nodded. "It is true, though. And those people are proud of that, too. If one of my ancestors had to default to mating with giants because he found no woman that was willing to, I would keep it a secret by all means!"

Joffrey nodded his agreement and japed about the stupidity of the Northmen. "They are so slow, I think their brains are frozen."

"The stormlords claim that the stormkings of old, our ancestors, my prince, took the daughters of gods as their wives. That is something to be proud of, I say."

And with a glint of mischief in her eyes, she turned to the prince's bodyguard. "Hound, pray, tell me, did your father lay with a bitch?"

Joffrey laughed out loud.. The Hound turned his head to Aliena, looked at her through his snarling dog's helmet and Aliena saw amusement in them as well as a hint of anger. "Don't all men?" he rasped, his laugh sounded hollow through his helmet. Aliena had to smirk, against her will. _There is more to him than meets the eye._


	6. Chapter 6

Hey! Forgot to say, please let me know whether you feel the characters are OOC. I find Sandor's interior monologue rather hard to write. He seems quite eloquent in the books most of the time and then there are chapters where he is just very vulgar, so I decided to make him eloquent when relatively sober and more vulgar when drunk. Thanks.

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Winterfell 298AC, a few days later

 _Sansa_

Lady Aliena Swann was the king's niece, daughter of his elder sister, Lady Alyssa, who had died almost a decade ago. Sansa had heard only that she was the king's favourite and very popular with the smallfolk who called her Princess of Flea Bottom. She had expected someone like Arya, wild and untamed and always mischievous.

But Lady Aliena looked every inch a lady when she walked through the gate behind the queen and at the feast, she walked at the side of Theon Greyjoy who could hardly believe his luck. She stared at her when she sat herself between uncle Benjen and Theon and Joffrey followed her gaze.

"My cousin, Aliena Swann. Beautiful, my lady, but not half as beautiful as you." He kissed her hand. It was a lie, but kindly meant. Aliena Swann had long dark hair, fair skin and a soft and pretty face with striking green and blue eyes. She was a maiden of sixteen but had a woman's body and was taller than most women in the room. That alone sufficed to draw attention but she wore a gown of black velvet with two golden swans embroidered on her bodice and a visible underskirt of cloth-of-gold. The neckline and sleeves were decorated with golden Myrish lace and a beautiful golden necklace with two facing swans topped off her look.

 _She looks as regal as a queen and in Baratheon colours head to toe._ Sansa felt a sting of jealousy. She had heard rumours about the closeness of Joffrey and his cousin and now that she saw her, she had no idea how to rival her.

She only took solace in the fact that the queen eclipsed Aliena as much as herself in a gown of red velvet decorated with gold. Joffrey was so handsome that it almost hurt to look at him with hair like beaten gold and eyes that shone like emeralds. Sansa was used to being called beautiful but she feared she would make quite a different experience in the South where beauty was so much more common.

Lady Aliena visit her only a few days later, right after needlework.

"Lady Sansa. We have not been properly introduced. I am Aliena Swann." she curtsied in her gown of white velvet embroidered in black thread. Sansa liked her smile.

"Yes, I have looked forward to meeting you, Mylady. You look very beautiful." Aliena smiled a strange little half smile and took her arm.

"Oh, Sansa, we are going to be as close as sisters. You really do not need to be so polite. You look very beautiful today and Joffrey finds you dazzlingly beautiful, he confided that much to me yesterday night."

Sansa was overjoyed. "He said that?"

"He said exactly that. 'Sansa is very beautiful and she has the courtesies of a queen'."

Aliena squeezed her arm a little bit.

"I must tell you that at first he was not happy with the betrothal, he expected you to be wild and untamed and plain, a preconception about most Northerners, I fear. But he was positively surprised when he met you."

 _He expected me to be like Arya. That was why he seemed so distant at first._ Sansa could have kissed the lady. _He really likes me._

"Shall we go down into the yard and meet him? Maybe we could go for a walk through the godswood?"

 _The wolves are in the godswoods._ Sansa loved her pup with all her heart but she felt disappointed that they ruined her day with the prince.

"I fear it is not possible, Mylady. Our wolves are in the woods."

She tried to conceal the disappointment.

"Oh, no matter. We take a few guards and explore the lands outside of Winterfell. There are open fields and woodlands that will make for a beautiful walk, I am certain. Of course it would be best not to go too close to the town, the Prince will want some peace and quiet."

Sansa was thankful for the suggestion. "The Hunter's Gate leads out to the open fields."

They met Joffrey in the yard with some of his men, watching Tommen shooting arrows at a dummy of straw. He failed every single one and Sansa felt pity for him.

"Tommen, this is embarrassing, you shame your house in front of my lady." Joffrey nodded over to the two of them and Sansa felt her heart flutter. _He calls me his lady._

"Aliena, show my brother how it is done."

Sansa did not understand. Why did the Prince not shoot himself? And why did he ask a woman to? Surely, Lady Aliena never held an arrow in her life, let alone shot one. But she was wrong. Gently, Aliena took the bow out of Tommen's plump fingers, squatted next to him so that they had the same height and showed him how to hold the bow. Sansa stood there, alone, but Joffrey walked over to her, the tall man with the dog's helmet behind him like a shadow.

Lady Aliena, next to Tommen, raised the bow and arrow, drew the string, released and- the arrow hit right between the dummy's painted eyes. Joffrey clapped.

"Very good. see Tommen, a woman shoots better than you!"

Sansa did not understand. A woman was not supposed to shoot arrows, she was supposed to sit by a fire and do walked over to them, her white skirt trailing in the snow. "Excellent, Mylady." Joffrey said but Aliena shrugged.

"A fixed target and a close one. There is nothing like catching an escaping deer after a good chase but this is no challenge."

Joffrey nodded eagerly. "We will go hunting, father said so."

"Yes, I heard. In the North, only men go hunting though. Is that not so, Lady Sansa? You seem rather surprised."

She smiled at her warmly. Sansa did not know what to say. Joffrey would think her talentless surely but she could hardly lie.

"Yes, women do not hunt in the North." Joffrey gave her an appraising look.

"You will learn it, Mylady." Aliena said and the Prince joined.

"We will go hunting together, I do hope you love it as much as I do." It was almost a threat. Sansa nodded.

"I will." she said. _His eyes are like emeralds and his hair is spun gold._

"My Prince, we came down into the yard because we hoped you would accompany us on a walk through the fields?" The lady asked.

"They are very beautiful in the snow, my prince, like covered with crystals." Sansa sadded and the prince smiled.

"Surely not more beautiful than their Lady." He kissed her hand again and Sansa felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

 _Her prince,_ she thought as she looked on his golden head.

"I will take a few men with me." he said then, and looked at the tall, frightening man.

"I will ask whether some of the ladies want to join. Shall we meet you in the yard?"

"We will wait here for you, ladies." The prince agreed and his voice was the sweetest melody Sansa knew. She accompanied Lady Aliena to the Great Hall where some of the queen's ladies sat, chatting and playing cards with the king's men. Lady Aliena asked whether they felt like a walk in the meadows but she dropped completely that they were going with the prince. Only two ladies wanted to come after Aliena had confirmed that a Ser Alver Caswell and a Lord Ragnor Hallaw would be accompanying them. Two young men in the prince's entourage, she explained later, tolerably handsome and considerably good matches.

They went to their chambers to change into warmer garb and Sansa put on her beautiful blue wool cloak lined with grey fur. She wore it rarely so that the fur did not get shaggy but today was the perfect occasion. She flew down the stairs and met Lady Aliena on the way to the guest house. She wore a long coat of a pale silvery grey, swirls embossed on the heavy thick fabric. The coat had a high collar and clasps of silver. The sleeves were long and dagged. She wore a short, elbow length fur cape around her shoulder, the grey of the fur matched the grey of her coat. The coat's train trailed behind her in the snow. Sansa felt a stab of jealousy. The dresses in the South were so much more...extravagant. She would ask her father to allow her a few of those.

They met Joffrey and less than a dozen of his men in the yard together with the two ladies, Alora Swyft and Charys Emmon. The party left through the Hunter Gate and the flat white fields lay in front of them, in the distance the snowy treetops of the Wolfswood. Joffrey, Sansa and Lady Aliena walked together for a while but after some time, Lady Aliena dropped back, something Sansa was both thankful and disappointed about. It was as if her head was empty but Joffrey talked enough for the both of them and when he took her arm to keep her warm, she was sure there had never been a better day.

 _Sandor_

The little swan had lured her prince out of Winterfell slyly. He knew that the boy would much rather not marry the red haired Stark whelp but his cousin. _You're happy he won't get the girl, aren't you? Fool. he scolded himself._

But Joffrey played the gallant today. The little swan had left the two to themselves, within sight but out of earshot. He had wanted to follow them but she had laid a gloved hand on his arm and asked him to leave the couple to itself.

"Your responsibility" he had replied gruffly and turned around. They had not talked much, the jape she had made about his parentage, her smirk, the only exchange since her words on the kingsroad. _"You are not the stuff my nightmares are made of."_ What did she even mean?

He had felt close to her, that night, a tension in the air that he could not place. By now he had admitted to himself that he desired her. That was nothing special, according to the talks in the barracks, almost every man did. She did not have the queen's otherworldly beauty but she was what a man dreamt of in lonely nights. That he had come to terms with. What troubled him was how he slowly noticed his wish to please her, to see her appreciating smile directed at him, her sweet words of thanks in his ears, her hand on his arm...

It would pass, of that he was certain but at the moment it was a pest and he was even harsher to her than he meant to. He stood apart from the group, apart from her, one of the young knights had taken his flute and played 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair'. He missed more notes than he hit though, but the party did not seem to mind. The ladies that had accompanied them danced with two newly anointed knights, tall, lean and handsome they were but completely inept with a sword, Sandor had seen them fighting in the yard. The swan girl stood at the side, clapped and sung:

"Oh, I'm a maid, and I'm pure and fair! I'll never dance with a hairy bear!"

Sandor turned, he knew the song and he was not fond of it, to say the least. The girl's voice drifted over to him, mixed with the wrong notes of the flute.

"I called for a knight, but you're a bear!"

 _A knightly knight, that's what you want? Why, aren't there so many great knights here to choose from?_ Indeed, most of Joffrey's entourage were newly anointed knights full of themselves and dreams of honour.

"She kicked and wailed, the maid so fair,  
But he licked the honey from her hair…"

 _That's right, he just took her. I should, too. Better than leaving her for that boy._

The boy just came back with the Lady Sansa who chatted at him happily. _Little fool._ The dancing had stopped. and Joffrey went over to his retainers.

"Oh, I so love 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair'! And you sang it beautifully, Mylady."

The Stark whelp was flushed from the walk, the pink of her cheeks and the red of her hair jarred. Aliena thanked her.

"I love it, too. A song where the beast gets the girl. Only fair, I guess, sometimes even songs must tell the truth."

Joffrey came back and saved the Stark whelp from a reply, Ser Boros at his side.

"The beasts get the girl now, Mylady?" Ser Boros asked, drawling. "Why, Hound, you don't seem so unfortunate then." He laughed and some joined, the Prince as well. Sandor saw no smile on her face though…

"Aye. And you will stay just as unlucky as you are now."

They both remembered the night he had battered his companion for what he had said about the girl.

"Do not worry, Ser Boros, I'm sure the smallfolk is busily engaged in writing "The Mole and the Maiden's Lair", so you don't get the short end of the stick."

The swan girl said and Blount went beet red. The rest of the party, Sandor included, chuckled, though. It was an appropriate comparison: short, fat, grey haired but balding with piggy little eyes and a constantly puckered mouth, he resembled an aging mole. Blount looked at Aliena with barely concealed hatred.

"Oh,come now, Ser Boros. You can make a joke about another but you cannot take one yourself?"

She touched his arm slightly with her gloved hand and Sandor felt a slight stab in his stomach.

 _Don't touch him, girl, he'll think it is an invitation. I won't drag him off you._ But he knew he would.

She was a clever liar, maybe the worst of them, but there was still something of the little girl inside her that flew through the woods with tangled hair and listened to neither king nor uncle.

 _A tame little swan she is now but there is still wilderness in her. A swan with antlers._

He almost chuckled at the thought but the boy's voice disturbed his thoughts.

"Are you cold, ladies?" And the two idle geese that had come along used this chance to cuddle up to the knights, doe eyed and shivering.

"We should go back then, for our ladies' sake." _So, you're cold,wimp. But hiding behind women's skirts as you have done all your life._

"These woods here are excellent for hunting. A pity you cannot come with us, Myladies, but I will gift you with a boar, maybe a bear if we find one. The we have both, the bear and the fair maiden."

He chuckled at his own joke and fell back with some of the younger knights, talking about the upcoming hunt. The ladies walked ahead, the swan and the wolf whelp together. Sandor walked in the middle, ahead of Joffrey, with Ser Boros and some of the older knights. He kept an eye on Boros, just to make sure. Aliena and Sansa were chatting happily and the wind blew their words over to him.

"So what is your favourite song, Sansa, if it is not the bear and his maiden?" she asked.

"There are so many!" The red-head cried out. "I most love those with knights in them, The Golden Rose is beautiful, Two Hearts That Beat As One is just so romantic...but most I love the songs of Jonquil and her Florian."

"The Maiden and the Fool? Yet another song so close to life. And men always claim there is no truth in songs."

A crooked smile grazed her features.

"What is your favourite song, Myl- Aliena?"

"There are many songs I like, just like you do. Jonquil and Florian are entertaining, The Seasons of my Love are sweet...I also love The False and The Fair. 'Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never.' It gives young girls the right expectations, does it not?" she laughed.

 _She has seen her uncle stray away from the marital bed a thousand times. And her aunt,too, I imagine._

Sansa objected. "Not all men are like that! There are honourable men, kind and brave and -"

 _Handsome._

"Gallant?" Aliena suggested kindly.

"Yes." The younger girl sighed relieved. "As Florian says 'All men are fools, and all men are knights, where women are concerned _._ ' "

Aliena looked at her, almost sad. "Not even knights are knights when women are concerned." she said but upon seeing Sansa's face, she cleared her throat.

"I mean that every man acts the same, knight or not. Gallant and brave and kind and foolish."

 _Aye, and I am handsome._

Sansa accepted that gladly, though. "Is it not romantic? That love is the same with noble and common men alike?"

"I think princes are special, though." The older girl smirked and Sansa threw a quick look at Joffrey who was walking far behind them. Her gaze brushed Sandor but she didn't see him.

"He is very gallant and not the least bit foolish, you are right, Mylady. I am so looking forward to going South. Will there be feasts and dances and tourneys? Did a knight ever ask you for your favour?- Forgive me." Shocked by her own boldness the girl shrunk.

"It is quite alright." Aliena patted her arm. "More feasts and pageants and tourneys and dances than you could want. The king loves his pastime and he loves lavish celebrations. And no, I was never asked for my favour. I fear those days are mostly gone though -" She saw the disappointment on the Stark girl's face. "- but I am sure when the prince gets to know how much you would love being asked for your favour, he will wear yours. And there will be other young knights at court whose hearts you will inspire to commit romantic acts in plenty. Roses and letters and small gifts, a stolen dance here and a few whispered words there."

 _She will soon enough learn that the only thing stolen from her will be her maidenhead and her dreams, gifted she will be with sorrow and pain and hear only whispered threats. It is no kindness to lie to her, swan._ But the wolf whelp was overjoyed and babbled about songs and courtly love until they reached the gate.


	7. Chapter 7

Winterfell, 298 AC

Aliena

Bran's fall from the tower was no mystery to Aliena. She had seen the looks Cersei and her brother had exchanged, she knew where they met in private and she knew that the boy had never fallen before.

"There's a first time for everything." The others said but for her, that were too many coincidences.

Cersei had arrived at the site of the tragedy flustered, with hair and dress in disarray, something only few even paid attention to with an unconscious little boy lying on the frozen ground. Her state was nothing sensational for those who did notice it either, she might have run to the site in excitement and agitation. But Aliena knew Cersei, her children were gone or in the Great Keep, far away from the oldest part, the abandoned part of the castle. There was no reason for her to panic and Cersei hated walking, let alone running. Maybe she would one day start to insist that no highborn foot ever touches the ground, like the triarchs of Volantis did. So if that was not the reason for her dishevelled look, it was her brother.

The First Keep was the perfect love nest, far away from the hustle and bustle of the royal court, comfortable enough for a queen and undisturbed...well, except for climbing little boys. The boy's fall was no accident and although Aliena hoped the boy would wake up, she hoped he would have no memories. She could not use the turmoil that came with war, not now.

She walked over the snow covered courtyard, eager for the warmth of the Great Hall when she saw Joffrey and his little uncle standing in the yard, not far away from her. Behind the two of them loomed Sandor Clegane. He was closer to seven feet than to six and Aliena, who had the Baratheon height and towered over most women and quite a few men, felt small next to him.

Joffrey seemed to draw strength from his sworn shield's presence though, as Aliena judged by his facial expression. Cersei had suggested before that he felt closer to the burned man than to his own father and Aliena could understand. She herself- _No. Joffrey likes the man because he shares his cruel temper. I am not cruel and neither do I like the man._

She looked up in time to see Tyrion slap Joffrey's face, once, twice. The boy's cheeks were reddened and he stormed off, past Aliena who stood in an archway. Clegane said something to Tyrion and then strode off towards the stable yard where he would no doubt vent his anger on some inept knights. Tyrion saw her standing in the archway and walked over to her on his stunted little legs.

Sometimes, Aliena allowed herself to pity him. He was ugly and malformed, without the winning manners his elder siblings had and with all the bitterness of a man who had drawn the shorter end of the stick all his life. He was not a bad man, ambitious and cunning not unlike his father, but he was too smug about his wits and keen mind. One day, he would fall right into the trap and wonder how he, the clever Tyrion Lannister, ended up tricked.

"Tell your cousin, next time he forgets his courtesies, my hand will remind him again." he said, still angry.

"What has he forgotten that you needed to remind him of?"

"He refused to let Lord and Lady Stark know how troubled and sorry he is for Brandon's accident."

"And you slapped him to make him do that? My, Lord Tyrion, you are not half as clever as I thought. Our prince never forgets a slight and there will come the day when you wish you had not tried to turn a lion into a trained poodle. And for what? A few sweet lies into the ear of a lord who detests him for his golden hair anyway?"

 _Joffrey hates the imp anyway. And no one, not even his father Tywin, cares a fig for him. He is as bold as a lion but he does not have the claws and fangs to pull it off._ "Thank you for your warning, Mylady. You are too kind to me." Tyrion Lannister said, managing a mocking bow.

"A good morning to you, and a safe journey to the Wall. I hope you will not like it enough to stay there." She gave him the smallest of curtsies and hurried into the Great Hall.

It was too damn cold here in the North. If the wind did at least rustle the leaves and whistle through the cracks of the leaded windows. But it was as still as on a graveyard up here, no sound but the howling of the wolves in the night. And day, now that the boy had fallen.

Aliena looked forward to the heat of the city, the bustle and the sounds, the smell of food and perfume, a faint note of shit and cum always lingering in the air, no matter how much lavender the burned on the windowsills. She would love going to Storm's End before the summer ended, feeling the heat on the old stones, the fresh breeze from the sea, smell the salt and seaweed on the air and see her mother in the great chair by the window, if only as a shadow. Maybe she would ask her uncle to let her go with Renly for a fortnight. He was always reluctant to let her go but maybe, with Ned Stark around, he could be convinced to let her return home. _Home. You don't even know what that is. Storm's End is Renly's castle, never your mother's. You have no home until you marry. Take Tommen or Renly and you will have Storm's End. Take Donnel and you will have Stonehelm, another 'home' of yours. Your husband's home will be yours, just like you will be your husband's, forever._

Aliena hated that little voice in her head but the emptiness of the Great Hall did not allow her to distract herself.

The few people present must have thought her foolish for running in and out like a raven in the rookery.

The cold air hit her, sharp as a blade. She went down into the yard, turned right and walked on, lost between the high stone walls and blinded by the falling snow. Not a soul was to be found here, she thought, no voice tore the silence that lay on the castle like velvet, soft and suffocating.

She had walked through gates and archways and finally saw the shape of the First Keep looming in front of her, black in the dim light that peered through bright white clouds. The entrance of the crypts laid to her left as she walked over to the wall, a snow covered stone bench in front of it. _I hope we leave on the morrow. I am not made for these harsh lands, for this court of grief and sorrow, for men that are as cold and stern as ice. I am of the South, born in the storm and in the summer. I need the vanity and opulence, the false smiles and the well-orchestrated dance and studied manners of the South. I need men of flesh and blood around me, men and women filled with lust and ambition. Here, I am a harpist with an instrument made of stone._ Aliena saw the beauty of these lands and maybe, if her mother was still alive, if she had lead a different life and been taught by others, she would love the purity of this place. Actually, if her uncle had gotten his way, she would spend the rest of her days up here as the Lady of this castle...she had prayed in the little sept to thank the gods for intervening on the evening of their arrival. Robb Stark would not have given her joy, as pleasant to look at as he was, he had the stiffness and sobriety of his father, with morals carved into stone and a pride in his honour that dwarfed the pride of the Lannisters. _Give me a sinner over a septon anytime._

"Shouldn't you be with your flock, little swan?" A rasping voice brought her back to the here and now. _Here we go. A sinner, if there ever was one._

"I don't think that swans have a flock, to be honest, Clegane. What about you, shouldn't you be with your pack?"

He wore no helmet and snowflakes landed on his dark hair, giving him the look of a dog trying to pose as a sheep.

 _I must look a terrible mess myself._ She had not bothered braiding and tucking her hair up, a hairnet was a cage and felt just as restricting. Down in the South, she put on her finery like men put on their armour. Here, those last few grim days without colours but full of snow, she had seldom spent much time in company. Her hair was probably tousled from the walk and hanging over her back like a wet cloth. She wore a warm dress of white wool with a high neckline and without much embellishment apart from some embroidery on the hem and sleeves. Over that, she wore only a simple light grey cloak, fastened with a ribbon at her throat. And her face - it would be frozen white by now with flushed cheeks and a red nose.

 _Oh Gods, why do you let him see me like that?_ she thought and scolded herself for it almost the same moment. She rose from the bench, brushing snow off her backside as elegantly as she managed. _Here for a moon and already I turn into a Northern butch._

He watched her with some barely concealed amusement. Anger and embarrassment rose in her.

"What? No pack? I forgot, you are a lonely dog, alone under lions."

He sneered. "So are you, and isn't that more dangerous for a swan?"

She had the wall behind her and could not step back when he came closer.

"Why, I just spread my wings and fly." her breathing went faster now, for some reason. He wore a black studded leather jerkin over black breeches and boots. _We must look hilarious, him all in black and me all in white._ He stood in front of her now, and she could not escape with the bench to one and wall to two sides.

"Spread your wings in a cage?" His rasping laugh sent shivers down her spine. She looked up at him, tilting her head back in order to do so. Grey steel met the sea until a snowflake landed on her lash and she looked down. _Why is he even coming so close? To frighten me? He should know by now that he doesn't._ A strand of wet hair fell into her face and before she could even lift an arm from under her cloak, rough, callused fingers brushed it behind her ear surprisingly softly. She looked up and found his face close to hers. Her heart was pounding and her gaze flickered to his lips. Dry lips, rough lips. A man's lips. Would she feel them on hers now? Part of her longed for their touch. "A snowflake." his voice was not more than a whisper. She smelled the sour stench of wine on his breath and her empty tummy turned. Unconsciously, she grimaced. She realised a second later but he had already backed off, hurt on his face for the blink of an eye and then his mask of scoffing contempt.

"When a dog is everything that stands between your little cage and a lion's claws, you will be bloody grateful." He turned away, took his wineskin out and emptied with one swallow. Aliena remained behind, still pressed to the ice cold wall, a grey and white shadow in this world of grey and white. _Did he want to? Oh Gods, I wanted to. A tiny bit._ A lie. _There are other matters on my mind. He tries to scare me, he loathes me. I won't do him the favour and allow him presence in my thoughts as well._ She sighed, still remembering his face, his burns, so close to hers, his gaze locked with hers. _I wonder how it would feel…_ _NO. Enough with these thoughts, it will be all gone once we are heading South again. These thoughts will fade once I have something to do again. Oh Gods, hopefully, I will not catch a cold._ Her dress was soaked by the snow and her skin was ice cold. She hurried over to the guest house, her mind weirdly distraught.

Sandor

He sat in the guards' hall, not far from where she had stood, a wineskin in his hands and a pool of icy water at his feet. She had looked like the Maiden herself in that white dress, one with the snow around her. He had never thought he would like the look of innocence. But then again, the snow had drenched her dress and turned it almost translucent. She had only worn a shift underneath, no corset, and he had seen more than she would have wanted him to see. _You must be full of self-loathing to go through this again and again and again. She does not bloody want you and your ugly face._

She was almost a princess and he was the grandson of the kennelmaster. A beautiful princess and an ugly kennelmaster's grandson, at that. Her talk about the beasts earlier had stirred something in him, he had thought it had a meaning. _What a fool you are, a bloody fucking fool._ At first she had not seemed repelled by him. She never had. They had talked, playfully and he remembered the warmth in his chest despite the icy cold around him. He had come closer, he knew he should not have but he always lost his head when he was alone with her. He took a sip from his wineskin. It wasn't just desire. He had desired others before and it had stopped. Well most of the times he had forced himself… - it did not matter. This was different. He _wanted_ her to want him, he tried so hard, he swarmed around her like a bee around the honey. It was pathetic. She would pity him if she saw him like this and if there was one thing he could not stand, it was pity. _Bugger this, bugger her. She is pretty enough but there are prettier ones. I will find one and have her. This has to stop. She is not so special, just a pretty little liar who makes every man dance to her songs. She almost had me dancing but she won't get me._

It felt good, the pain and glumness transformed into anger now. Anger was a good feeling, it made him stronger. He was used to anger, not to pain. _I will stop. I will not meet her on her own anymore. It will not take long until I found some other way to occupy myself. If she thinks she has me at her beck and call, she should bloody well think again._ He downed the wine and got up, staggering back to his sleeping quarters. Here, in the loneliness and cold of his room, his hand went down under the blanket. There had been something in her eyes, right after he had brushed her hair away and before he had started talking. He was bad with this but that had not been disgust. Her eyes had flickered to his mouth for a second, less than that even. He had wondered whether she wanted him to kiss her but he had been insecure. The humiliation of being refused by her was something he wanted to spare himself. _Yer, did she want to? There was something ... Fear, probably. As if she would want your horrible face, your disgusting burns, anywhere near that porcelain skin of hers. Your dirty, callused hands on her clean body, your rough lips on her soft ones. She's a bloody little lady, she wants a knight not a dog._ His hand stopped. This was no good. She ruined it. Tomorrow, he would drink less and find a bedwarmer. On the kingsroad, hopefully, not in this draughty shit place they called castle.


	8. Chapter 8

The Kingsroad / The Trident, 298 AC

Aliena was more than relieved when they left the imposing walls of Winterfell far behind them. This would be a journey with no return and a tiny part would miss the harsh simplicity of life in the North. But as they journeyed further South, as she could take off her cloak and change back into flowy chiffons and samites, she felt excitement and pleasant anticipation. The South was where she belonged, where everything was that she needed and wanted.

 _I need Cersei and I need Robert's heirs to get what I want. I will endure. I will remind them of my loyal nature, my love and devotion. Cersei would help herself by giving Storm's End to me. I could marry Edric and be good with it...but I want to achieve it on my own. Rhaenyra never sat on the throne, only her sons. Rhaenys should have followed her father, Aemon, not Aemon's younger brother's son. Alyssa Baratheon should have followed her father, not her third brother, still a child. But I will take what is mine by right and blood. I will take it and if it is the last thing I do. I will prove that a woman can hold a keep and fight a war -_ win _a war. I will prove that a Lady can rule and govern the Stormlands, far better than my uncle ever could._ It had been Aliena's dream to return home, not as a guest but as the owner. Her mother's spirit still haunted the walls of Storm's End for her, happy memories and a sad one. It had been 279, almost twenty years ago, Aliena thought.

Her mother was already eight and ten, rather old to be an unmarried wealthy lady with no betrothal in sight. Tywin Lannister had offered his thirteen year old son as a potential match, Doran Martell had offered his brother. A Hightower and a Tyrell had been thrown in as well, Aliena remembered her uncle's account. Robert had wanted his sister to marry Eddard Stark, the plain and solemn second son of Winterfell. When she refused him, he had begged her to at least consider Jon Arryn's heir, a young squire, or old Arryn himself. But Alyssa only wanted to stay in the Stormlands. Her parents had died only a year ago and she was still grief stricken. Robert had arranged a tourney, the first in a year. He had invited Eddard and his brothers, noble lords from all over the Seven Kingdoms, for it was an imposing event. He had hoped Alyssa would be impressed with Eddard's prowess in the melee and forget his awkwardness. Clifford Swann had been more than ten years her mother's senior, a tall and broad-chested man, with a strong jaw and nose, fair hair and eyes the colour of brilliant jade. "A face like hewn from rock" her uncle had said, and even her mother had agreed that her father had not been handsome, rather plain, with a fierce, wild expression but with kind eyes that had taken her breath away. He had come second in the melee, defeated by Robert's warhammer. At the feast he had asked her to dance with him. He had never danced at a ball before and was horribly clumsy, it felt like dancing with a bear, her mother had confided to her. He had stayed for a few weeks and impressed Alyssa with directness, intelligence and strength. On the day of his departure, he had walked through the gardens with her and professed his love in blunt words.

"I am not one with a gift for words, Mylady. I cannot give you sonnets and songs, I fear, I am not even able to give you the conversations you deserve. All I can give you is all of me. I admire you, I dream of you, I love you as I have never loved before… Say no, if you must." Her mother had cried when she recalled his words, heavy tears rolling down her pale cheeks.

Alyssa had married for love rather than for financial security and status. The Marcher Lords were the best warriors, proud and fierce in battle and at board alike. The Swanns of Stonehelm were especially proud and powerful. They were wealthy as well, with good trade relations and Stonehelm was not too far away from Storm's End. Robert allowed their union although he was disappointed for his childhood companion. The day Alyssa left for Stonehelm was a sad day for everyone who was left behind but it took less than three years for her to return, round with child and in the dead of the night to seek the protection of its heavy walls and her own blood.

Robert marched on Summerhall and with him his brother-in-law. He fought valiantly, everyone agreed, and he died like the warrior he was, a sword in his back and blood on his hands. His widow gave birth to his daughter, only weeks later in a stormy night that shook the ancient fortress. The shutters and windows in her bedchamber had flown open, the wind whistled through the cracks and Aliena Swann, a Storm's daughter was born, as Renly told her. Black of hair but with strange eyes, blue mixed with her father's jade. 'Aliena' had been her father's name of choice for a girl, Alyssa would have liked to name the girl after her mother, Cassana. But she granted her husband his last wish. Her mother had loved her, that Aliena knew. But her father's death had scarred her and there was always a sadness in her smile, a pain in every song and tears in her kisses. She had brought her up like a stormlander, wild, untamed and with a thirst for freedom. She rode her first horse before she could even walk, she fought the boys in the yard with sticks and hated sewing. Books, on the other hand, she loved. She read tomes at 5, tales of the First Men she admired, the old Stormkings and the Andals that came to conquer. Her mother got a maester that taught her Valyrian, as her own father had profited from his knowledge of languages. Aliena had seen tears in her eyes when she sang her Valyrian songs, recited events in the history of the Seven Kingdoms with ease and stood on the back of a galloping horse without falling. She was almost eight when her mother died of a cough. She remembered her ash grey face, the cheeks hollow and her eyes sunken and closed. She had not looked as if she slept at all. That had been her first thought. She looked dead. After that, Aliena just remembered a lot of black taffeta, the tears that fell and the pain, buried in her chest like a thistle, a pain that could not be ignored or numbed or forgotten. A pain that spread into her arms, her legs and her head until she felt heavy, as if she was made from lead.

Her uncles had debated whether she should grow up on Dragonstone, with her cousin Shireen, in Storm's End with her bastard cousin Edric Storm, or in King's Landing with her royal cousins. In the end, Robert decided to take her to King's Landing as the rocks of Dragonstone were a depressing sight on their own, the place where her mother died full of shadows, while King's Landing bright and full of life. Her uncle had always been a blind man. Aliena found it questionable to send a young orphaned girl into the lion's den but she prospered, in a very special way.

"Aliena!" her cousin's nasty voice rang all over the camp site.

"The Lady Sansa and I want to take a walk. Accompany us, or I will die of bore." He said, once he reached her seat in the shadow of a great oak tree.

She rose (he did not even offer a hand) and smoothed out her dove grey skirts. Flowy samite, embroidered and embellished. Her dark hair braided intricately and squeezed in a silver snood that hung from neck. She was back to her old self and she would not allow the shadows of her past, the shadows of the North to trouble her present and future. "Of course. I am ready." She always was.

Sandor

"Dog, come. My cousin, the Lady Sansa and I want to go for a walk along the river." _Bugger your walk, boy._

He had managed to stay away from her rather well, met her only at meals and the occasional feast. He had felt her gaze on him more than once, for a moment only, and every time, he had resisted to meet her eyes. Their colour was burnt into his mind though and he still saw them at night, far more often than he wanted to. He would stay strong this time as well. _She might think she can make me dance like a puppet but I'm not one of her bloody dolls._

They met the two little ladies by the edge of a sparse woodland, not far from the river. He saw her face tense for a moment when she glimpsed him but the expression was gone before the boy even noticed and her smile returned. _All smiles and courtesies and sweet words for him, aren't you. I get the grimace and flinch._ he thought, grimly. _Stop your bloody self pity, you wail like a woman. You don't want her false smiles anyway._

"Sansa, allow me to say how beautiful you look today. The Southern dress really becomes you. Does it not, dear cousin?" Sweet lips, sweet words. Joffrey joined.

"You become more beautiful with every mile." he said. _What a great fool he is._ But the Stark whelp positively beamed at him and took his offered right arm. Sandor followed them through the woods on a sandy path. He saw how his cousin wanted to let go of his left arm, but he held it tight.

"Why, mylady, can I not hold two ladies in my arms?" He asked.

"My prince will find that the Faith does not allow such a thing." she replied, a half smile on those soft full lips.

"I am to be king. The Faith will follow me, not the other way round."

The Stark whelp nodded, eager to say something. "They should, my prince, you are right." she said, clutching to his arm more tightly. Sansa looked at him like a thirsting man looked at a flagon of wine.

"The first Aegon had two wives. He cared nothing for the Faith. He conquered them." The boy's tone was grim.

"A brave man and a great king. His like has not been seen again… yet." The swan chirruped.

 _You can lie all you like, once he's king you won't be safe either._

"Yes, I will be a great king. Everyone says so. A warrior king, like my father."

 _You mean a pretty, empty headed knight with shit for honour?_ Sandor knew about the boy's paternity.

"My father fought with yours on the Trident and he said there was no one who did not fear King Robert and his war hammer."

The Stark girl seemed glad that something so eloquent had come to her mind. Joffrey granted her an approving smile.

"Lady Aliena, who were Aegon's wives again?" The prince had rarely bothered with his studies.

"There was Queen Visenya, the king's elder sister, proud and strong, tall and beautiful. A warrior herself, passionate and fierce and brave but also stern, determined, stubborn and unforgiving. And there was Rhaenys, Aegon's younger sister, sweet and delicate, some say she was the most beautiful woman of her time. She was a dreamer with her head in the clouds and a love for dancing, music and poetry. Just like you, dearest Sansa."

The little swan smiled sweetly at the timid girl.

"Indeed. And you are just like Visenya." Joffrey said, eager to compliment her.

"Proud, stubborn and unforgiving? I hope not!" _That is exactly what you are._

"Passionate and brave, tall and beautiful and older than your future king."

"You are kind to say so, my prince." _It is only the truth. Every man with eyes would tell you that._

"Sansa, you seem horribly confused. It was a jape, nothing more." Aliena took the girl's arm. "You Northeners laugh and joke little, but the South will teach you soon enough not to take everything so seriously." Her voice was sweet and soft and flowing like silk but there was an edge to her smile.

 _Don't, girl. Take it all seriously, life is not a joke down in the capital._

Sansa smiled, embarrassed. She assured the prince she had understood and she laugher but she was still confused.

"You two will be like the great King Jaehaerys and his good Queen Alysanne. The realm has never known such delight."

That was a topic the little Stark was fond of. She chirruped about the period of peace, the songs of fair Alysanne and her gracious brother husband, the tales of knights and maidens who lived during their long reign. This bored the boy to death, he could see it and expected a conflict. But the Stark septa came in her robes and fetched the girl for a lesson. The Stark whelp hated to go but she was too well bred to make a scene. She curtsied and thanked the prince and Aliena, managed a stiff curtsy in his direction without looking at his face and then walked back.

Joffrey seemed relieved and Aliena tense. "She is a timid girl and simple." Joffrey sneered.

"She will learn the courtly ways soon enough. You have seen the court her Lord Father holds, every young maiden would grow up simple in that castle. But she will shine in the South. Her sister is the true little wilding."

They reached the river where two swans had taken refuge on its bank. Aliena went to her knees and one of them came closer, almost nibbling at her fingers when Joffrey drew his sword: "Off with you, beast!" He waved it at the bird which took the small light blade into its beak.

"Please, my prince, it is only a bird." The girl pleaded but the boy had no power over his blade anymore. Swans were strong creatures with strong beaks. The bird tore at the blade and the grip glid out of the boy's hand. The swan let go and hurried away into the river, along with his companion. Aliena picked up the sword and handed it to him graciously but too late. The boy was red with rage.

"Kill the beast, dog." he spat. "No! My prince, please. It is my fault, the swan is my sigil-" Sandor waited.

"There is only one white swan in your sigil, mylady. Once the cooks have roasted the other, it will be black, just like the one in your heraldry." His voice dripped with anger and spite.

"My prince, they are mates for a lifetime. If you kill one, the other one will stop eating and die as well."

 _A romantic little tale._

"Better even. Dog, go." Sandor really meant to kill the bird. But as he went past her, his gaze met hers and her eyes were begging.

 _It's just a bird._ he thought as he walked into the water, cold on his skin. But he knew this was not just about the bird. Would he do her the favour? Would he do her bidding? He knew he had lost before he even fought. The bird glid over the water, more than an arm's length away from him but not out of reach. _I'll scratch it._ He drew his sword and struck out. He hit the bird at its tail, a few feathers came loose and he heard the girl's gasp behind him. _You should be thankful I didn't slice the thing in half._ The bird spread it wings and gone it was.

"You fool! You should have hit it, not just scratch it!" The boy was furious. Sandor came back, wading through the cold water.

"A bird is killed with an arrow, not a sword." he said, to the prince.

"You have no arrow. I ordered you to kill it. You disobeyed!" he stood there like the brattish scoundrel he was, glaring at him. But it was not his look that concerned him. The girl stood behind him, her cheeks pink and her eyes glistening, and she smiled. At him. Not the sweet smile she reserved for nobles nor the mocking half smile. It reached her eyes and softened them. He felt an ache in his chest, a sweet, soft pain. _She knows I did not try. She knows I did it for her. I am a fool. I dance like every other._ He could have hit himself but he knew he would do it again.

Aliena now took care of her angry cousin. "I am relieved the Hound missed. I admit it, I have the soft heart of a woman and I love these creatures much. I will make it up to you, my prince." she kissed him on the cheek, a peace offering. "A good boar hunt is better than butchering a swan in the water. We can take bow and arrow on our hunt, my prince, and shoot some birds."

"Maybe I'll hit a swan." _Devious little beast._

"Maybe." _She knows he has better chances hitting a fly's eye._

She took his arm. "I am thankful for your forgiveness. I have behaved like a foolish child."

He nodded, eagerly, this seemed to please him. "You have. One could think I'm older than you." _Ah._ "But princes grow up much quicker. I forgive you. You are just a woman, you are soft and silly."

Her face was stone still but then he blinked and she wore a smile again. "You are very right."

He kissed her on the mouth and Sandor's stomach turned, he felt the muscles tighten. _How dares he - He plays the gracious and takes something in return._ But Aliena had already backed off, took his arm again and pretended that that had only been a cousinly kiss. They walked back to the camp where Joffrey joined his mother.

Aliena remained and turned to him. _Stay strong this time. Keep your distance._ He guarded himself against her smiles and sweet words, against his own instincts.

"Thank you. It was kind of you-"

" _Kind?_ I'm not _kind_. I did not do it for you, overweening little lady. Thought it was a knightly thing to do, huh? Bugger that. My sword is not a toy, not even for the boy. And it's not working for you either."

He came closer and she stood her ground, he came so close that she had to tilt her head to see his face, so close that he could feel her physical presence on his skin. _Don't let your instincts get the better of you. A smug little thing she is and she will know she does not own you._ It was hard, though, his body reacted to hers, his chest tightened, he felt his heart pounding faster. _Fool._ She seemed taken aback.

"I did not think you are working for me. I just thought you had spared the animal for its innocence."

 _We both know bloody well that I never spared anything for_ innocence _._

"There is no _innocence_ , only those you can protect themselves and those who can't. Your little creature could, so now it's gone. Can you?" He heard the scorn in his voice and saw her face react for an instant. _Hurt. Anger. Disdain._ It was like a punch in his stomach but he knew he had to stay strong, this once.

"Bugger off, clean your plumage and whisper your sweet words to those who want to hear them." He almost pushed her out of his way and she let it happen, stumbled and then caught herself.

"I pity you." she said, and he heard the contempt in her voice, warded himself against its sharpness but it hit him anyway. _Do not turn around, fool. That is what she wants._ Aye, and it was what he wanted, too.

He sat on one of the benches, his wineskin and the darkness his only companions. This was the end of it. He had gone too far, she would not come closer again. He had driven her away and protected himself. That was a good thing. No more humiliation. No more weakness. No more pain. _Then why does it fucking hurt so much now, huh?_ He would numb the pain, he always did. And after a while, it could not harm him anymore, after a while, it would turn into a shield. _Scar tissue is tougher than normal skin. Who knows that better than me?_


	9. Chapter 9

Hey! We finally go back to King's Landing, Aliena's Alma Mater so to speak. I took the liberty and changed a tiny detail of the original plot. Ser Balon is defeated by Gregor in the book but I made Sandor beat him. Again, I ask you, please review! It means a lot to me to receive feedback, positive or negative.

Thank you.

* * *

 _King's Landing, 298AC_

Aliena

Today was the great tourney that was held for the King's Hand.

Aliena knew she would have to look ravishing, every lordling would be there, knights and younger sons as well. Even the smallfolk was allowed to watch. They loved her well but she knew that she needed to be beautiful to keep their love. A few silvers maybe and and some words of kindness and they would sing for her again. She knew that it was the smallfolk that could make a change.

She would never win all the lords and ladies, they were too wrapped up in the power struggles and quarrels. But it were the men of the smallfolk, the hedgeknights and common men that made an army, that forged swords, baked bread and built ships. The women that sewed banners, brought up children and whispered into their husbands' ears. And she would have them rooting for her.

She wore a gown of a dark silvery grey satin with long dragged sleeves and a low neckline that showed she was now a woman grown. The wide skirt was split in the front and showed an underskirt of dark red samite. She wore a necklace of dark silver and garnet roses, with matching bracelets and rings. Her maid pinned garnet roses on her bodice, so that the ornate neckline would draw the eye just there...She looked into the looking glass. The gown was stunning, the garnet details shone like fire and the grey fabric gleamed like dark smoke. Her dark hair flowed partially over her back to her hips, some strands were taken back and fastened above the nape of her neck with a garnet hair comb. _If it was just a tad darker. Not just dark brown but jet black. Like it had been when I was a child._ Kenna, her handmaiden, came back into the chamber, holding grey satin slippers in her hands.

"You look beautiful, Mylady." She did. She knew she did. But he did not seem to care how pretty she was. He had treated her dirt since the incident with the swan on the Kingsroad. Since their encounter in Winterfell's snowy yard, actually. _I do not care. He is a beast, he has proven it to me more than a dozen times. He killed the butcher's boy and he enjoyed it. He is a monster. Why can I not accept that?_ She knew he loved killing, she knew he had no mercy, she knew he was full of rage and disdain and scorn. Yet, she found him intriguing. _Had_ found. He was honest, brutally honest in a world where everyone else lied. That took courage. She remembered when he told her about his burns, in the small hours of the morning with a rasping low voice that had burned itself into her mind.

He treated the Stark girl with the same odd kindness and Aliena had suppressed surges of jealousy every time. _He can be kind to her. If she is what softens him, so be it. He has a pressure point, then._ But she liked it not, to say the least. _She is sweet and innocent and silly. If that is what he wants, he can try to get it. The girl will never even look at his face willingly._ Aliena turned and her skirts swirled. _Today, I can have every man I want. He can lust after Sansa as much as he sees fit._ She left her chambers and met the Queen and her entourage in the Queen's ballroom for a magnificent breakfast. Sansa was there and Joffrey as well and his sworn shield. Aliena had some practise in overlooking him by now but she kept an eye on him secretly and hated herself for it. Many knights and lords had come today and many of them would dream of her tonight, she hoped. She needed them to remember her fondly and beauty was what men cared for most. There was a cause to fight for with words and compliments and looks heavy with desire.

She rode to the site of the tourney in the queen's carriage, Cersei a dream in gold and Lannister red, her hair like spun gold. The smallfolk cheered for her as she went by and she held hands, gave out silvers and blessed their children. Later, she took a seat on the dais, with other guests of honour, next to Joffrey who babbled in her ear about the mistakes the jousters made and how he would do it better.

Jousts did not excite Aliena much, most of the runs were a tiring affair, lowly knights and second sons hungry for gold and glory. She always paid attention at the end though. The fights of the best were always thrilling. She knew that Gregor Clegane would be among the final jousters, the man they called the Mountain and the man who had burned a little boy. Most men bet on him. But there were others. Jaime Lannister was good, the Hound was exceptional, she grudgingly admitted. And Ser Loras Tyrell, the little flower from Highgarden, had become rather good as well. Maybe someone new would surface, take the 40 000 gold dragons and become the hero of those songs Sansa loved so much. Aliena would love that. It did not look much like it though.

The two comely sons of Bronze Yohn lost, her cousin, Balon, was unhorsed by _him_ , a bitter moment for her. A young knight, Jon Arryn's former squire, rode as well, clad in the blue and cream of the Vale. He was set up against Gregor Clegane, a man that looked like a giant's bastard. A boy, her age if not younger, alone at a joust against the Mountain that Rides. _They could have thrown him into a dragon pit just as well._ It was evident, from the beginning, the boy would suffer. But when his throat was pierced but Gregor's lance and red blood covered the fancy cloak, a gasp went through the spectators. Joffrey laughed about the boy's foolishness but Aliena wondered. How could it be that the boy's gorget was so loose? He had been Lord Arryn's confidant and the old Lord had perished surprisingly quickly as well. This proved her suspicions. Arryn had met her uncle Stannis, her uncle's heir after Joff and Tommen. _What did Arryn know..._ There was only one incriminating fact he could have found out and Aliena knew which Lord Ser Gregor served. _Why, Cersei, you thought the boy knew anything? You did not know Jon Arryn well._ The boy was removed from the site, new sand spread over the blood stain. The tourney went on and on the morrow, no one would remember a boy defeated by the Mountain.

The great feast after the tourney was a splendid affair but Aliena could not forget the dead young knight from the Vale and the consequences she would have to cope with, should the queen's secret come out. She sat on the table of honour, a little off the side next to Renly, her uncle. He had been beaten by Sandor Clegane in the joust and still seemed a bit dizzy from the fall. Aliena was lost in thoughts and noticed too late that she had been served Dornish Red instead of her normal watered sweetwine. She was already rather drunk when the dances began, just there on the meadow to the songs of only a few musicians. She was asked by her uncle first, then by Beric Dondarrion who entertained her with bawdy stories. When she looked up at the dais, she saw Prince Joffrey talking to Sansa Stark, the girl practically hung at his lips, laughed and spoke with far too much enthusiasm. _He killed your wolf and here you sit, flirting with him. I always thought the North had a long memory._

Her vision was not as clear as it should be and she felt more than just a little shaky on her legs, so she stood at the side of the field, watching the dancers. It was only after a while that she noticed the Hound standing a little behind her in the shadows, all alone with his goblet. He had changed into a dark red tunic the colour of blood, with a leathern dog's head sewn onto it. It was an ugly garment and it made him look different as well.

Aliena knew him only in armour, at least boiled leather and ringmail, all covered up. Now, she could see his broad chest, his muscles tensing and relaxing under the fabric when he lifted his goblet to his mouth. _He looks strangely vulnerable. Like someone dressed him up but he is uncomfortable._ She probably had the right of it, here, he was a fish out of water. It was the wine and the exhilaration of the dance maybe that made her walk over to him. The light was dim here and his face was obscured but she could make out his scar, a mass of black charred flesh and regrown skin, partially glistening red.

And his eyes which stared down at her with irritation and contempt. _Here we go again._ Aliena was not used to being stared down at, she was tall for a woman and dwarfed some men and she was only six and ten. But the Hound towered over her by more than a foot and she had come so close that she had to tilt her head back to look at him properly, her throat exposed, garnets shining on it like drops of blood. She smelled wine and sweat and horse and something else that made her feel tingly.

"What do you want, Lady?" He was quite drunk as well.

"Do you dance, Mylord?" the words were out there and she could not take them back. _Oh Gods, be good. He is in a foul mood anyway._

"I am no Lord."

 _At least say no, coward._

"Is that a yes or a no?" She kept her eyes on his and saw anger rise in them. _Well, isn't that marvellous._

"Why don't you just fuck off." _Very courteous indeed._

"So you want to say you dance better with your sword than with your legs?"

"You have the gift of the gab, don't you? Why don't you just bugger off and shower someone else with you witty little words?" His insolence took Aliena's breath away. She had asked him, gathered all her courage and asked him. And he rebuffed her so rudely. Her pride was hurt and she grew angry.

"Why do you refuse to dance with me?"

"Why would I?" A low voice filled with rage.

"I have asked you kindly, I am pretty enough, highborn and a tolerable dancer. Why wouldn't you?"

"Full of yourself, aren't you, little swan." He rasped, his eyes burning with anger now.

But she had a fury to match his. "A lady asked you to dance. And you don't even have the decency to refuse politely. Yes, I was taught to be kind, polite and well-spoken. You mock me for that. But all you seem to know is insults and vulgarities."

"Oh am I not the shiny knight you wished for, little swan?" His speech was a little slurred but Aliena's thoughts became clearer with the anger.

"You think if I wanted a knight, I would go and ask you...Hound?" She gave him a look of despite and then turned around on her heel.

Why did she even ask him? He was barely more than a soldier and people would have laughed surely. _That's why he said no. He didn't want to be laughed at._ It was the way he had refused her, though. She was not used to politness from his side but over the past weeks, he had been hate-filled and scornful. She still felt the hot embarrassment on her cheeks, the humiliation like a hole in her stomach. _He has shamed and offended me greatly just because he felt like it. He is really as brutish as he looks. And he detests me. He has shown me about a hundred times. I should just accept what is so obvious and stop looking for a hidden good core. Why did I even ask?!_ She entered the circle of torches again that stood in high iron holders. Her cousin, Ser Balon Swann danced with her, both sons of Bronze Yohn Royce and Ser Loras Tyrell, against whom the Hound would probably ride on the morrow. _Beat him, boy._ He was a graceful dancer but Aliena was uncomfortable next to him. He was a lean youth, only a tad taller than her and she felt unproportionate and big next to him. _This is a boy for a girl like Sansa, not for me._ But she saw Clegane look at them from the sides and hoped that they did not look as ridiculous as she felt.

Sandor

"Do you dance, Mylord?" her voice roused him from his thoughts. She was beautiful today, all dressed up for the young, comely knights and lords. She looked like a fantasy come to life with her dark swirling gown, the blood red jewelry that drew the attention to her tits. She should wear colours more often, he thought. At the tourney, he had been desperate to win every round, just to impress her with his prowess. There was little enough he was good at, anyway. He remembered her face in the crowd before his round with Balon Swann, a burly man with a square face. Joffrey had rooted for his dog openly but Aliena sat by his side, only a faint smile on her lips when he rode in. She stood and cheered for her cousin, though. He had looked again, after he had won. She stood, smiling and applauding and it filled him with irrational joy, for which he scolded himself at the same time.

Later, at the feast, he had noticed her feminine silhouette in the light of the torches and wondered what she did here. She should be in there, being stared at by men, dancing and flirting. When she asked him, he thought she was mocking him. _A cruel jape._ He was offended, more than he wanted to show. She had never been cruel to him. It dawned on him too late that she had not meant it as an insult. He saw the clouds in her eyes and the way she swayed a little, heard the slur in her words. She was drunk, quite drunk for a lady used to watered wine. That was why she asked him. In the shadow, his burns must be barely visible. She looked at his face the whole time, he saw the anger rise in her green eyes, the shame that coloured her cheeks. But it was too late and what did it matter anyway. Tomorrow she would probably have forgotten the incident and tonight, others would take his place.

He kept to his spot in the shadow, he saw the little singing bird next to the prince on the dais, no eyes for her surroundings. And he saw _her_ , dancing with her cousin, the one he had knocked off his horse prior. He felt like doing it again when he saw her laughing at something he had said. Then she danced with the two Royces, beaten in the tourney as well. One of them put his hands far too low on her waist and his eyes dropped to her cleavage far too often. He had noticed it, too. She was a woman now, the little girl he had chased after in the woods, her shape more feminine than that of the queen with a small waist, an ample bosom and round hips which she swayed in a way that showed that she was aware of her figure. He imagined how it would have went had he said yes. His hands on her waist now, her body painfully close to his...he had smelled the wine and her sensual perfume when she stood in front of him. He shrugged the image away. If he had said yes, she would have hurt her ankle or pretended to be tired. She would have found an excuse, once she had gotten back to her senses.

 _You idiot don't think she really wanted to dance with you, do you? She was drunk and you were close. She doesn't want to be a fucking laughingstock._ He felt anger tighten his chest again. _Who does she think she is? "So you want to say you dance better with your sword than with your legs?" She had the right of it though. I cannot not dance. We learned to talk with the blade and to the dogs, not all the pretty things a lordling is taught. She wanted to shame me._ A look at the dancers on the grass made him only more furious.

She danced with the Tyrell boy, a shadow of a man who could not even sport a beard. _Yet, he has beaten as many men as I have today._ The boy was graceful like a girl and they made a nice couple although she looked older than him, more mature. People clapped as they danced, a swirl of her skirts and his half cape. _He even dresses like a girl. Is that what she fancies?_ Sandor wondered but in the same moment he scolded himself. _Whatever it is, it's not you that's for certain. She is a little liar anyway, a puppeteer, sly and scheming. I have been through this. She won't have me dancing to her sweet songs._ He turned away, suddenly feeling sick. _You've had too much already._ He walked around the site of the feast, his goblet filled again by a timid serving wench.

The swan girl stood not far from him, facing the other direction. Standing in the faint light, she seemed engrossed in thought when a huge shape walked towards her along the row of torches. The shape was followed by several smaller ones. His brother. He had been at the feast, sitting in a corner surrounded by his own men. It seemed he had enough now and wanted to leave and his path led him just past her. _Just go, go past. Turn away, girl, he'll like the look of you._ But Gregor had already seen her. Sandor moved closer quickly. Gregor Clegane had reached the girl, stood in front of her and looked down at her. She looked up, saw, moved aside and curtsied.

"Forgive me if I was in your way, Ser." Sandor heard her say. _Don't speak to him. Don't. Go back to the others._ Gregor had not moved, he still looked at her and Sandor could not see her face. He was there now, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"The King's niece." He said to his brother. Gregor stared at him for a moment, threw a look over to the king who was talking to the queen, and then back to his brother and the girl. Sandor counted eight men in his entourage. _Just leave, you moron._ Aliena seemed to grasp the situation now, and for once she stayed silent, something Sandor was thankful for. His brother did not like the chat of women, his sister had learned that as well...After a tense moment, Gregor moved past them, his men following on his heel. The girl turned around.

"Thank you." she did not smile and there was no warmth in her words. How often she had said that and never like this. _I just saved your fucking life and your honour and virginity if you still have it as well. Is that not worth more than a fucking dance?_ He said it not, though.

"You should go to your chambers, little swan. Not that that can protect you... but I could. I can take you."

Aye, he could try to talk to her. Normally. If she just stopped being so fucking ambiguous. All her words were sly and sweet or sharp and mocking. He felt like everything he said tried to provoke him to one reaction or another. He would try and be witty and clever, maybe even friendly. He was drunk and he longed for her presence again, after he had stayed abstinent for so long.

"What makes you think I want your protection? Or your company? I thank you for helping me with this...incident. But I want to spare us both the necessity of talking to each other more than needed. I will ask my cousin to see me to my chambers. Good night." And she left him standing there with a red rage in his stomach and a strange pain in his chest he could not interpret. He took the refillings of his goblet eagerly, the wine dulled his senses and slowed his thoughts. He was in a terrible mood, brooding over his brother, the girl, his face...or what was left of it.

Joffrey's call caught him right in this mood and the little Stark girl with the head full of clouds had to suffer. He had told the little bird what he had told _her_ years ago. He had used almost the exact same words. He had been desperate for _her_ and the Stark whelp reminded him of the girl she had once been. Timid, stupid and not half as fierce she was, but with an underlying sweetness and charm the little swan had as well. A poor substitute, nevertheless. He felt her blue eyes looking at him, full of fear first and then full of pity. She was not what he longed for. After he had delivered the bird to her cage, he roamed the hallways restlessly.

He was drunk, truly and completely drunk. He had half a mind to go to the little swan's chambers where she would no doubt lay in her soft featherbed, that figure of hers only covered by a thin nightgown. He wanted to take her, wipe away the look of contempt she had given him. Wipe away the superior little smile that normally grazed her features, wipe all her masks away until only fear remained. Yes, she would be scared of him when she noticed than none of her sweet little words could reach him. And take her he would, run his hands down her curves and grab her... The longing to go to her was so strong that he left the keep.

Whores had infested the site of the feast, like crows after a battle, now that most of the noble ladies had gone to their rooms and only men, drunk on wine and dreams of glory, remained. The wine had made him horny and his thoughts about the girl had just intensified his lust. The women wore sheer silks and many of them were already occupied. A rather tall whore stood by a torch, her body curvaceous and shapely, her hair a dark brown. She was older than the girl, well into her twenties and she had bad teeth but he did not care, he never kissed them and fucked them from behind. A courtesy to them...and it made it easier to imagine someone else. He almost dragged her to an empty pavilion and pressed her down on the matt. He was mad and full with rage and he fucked her hard. When he spilled his seed inside her, he saw her face, the pain that had flickered across those features when he had refused her. _Even this, she ruins._ Gruffly, he sent the whore away. The woman fled from his tent. Hopefully, by the morning, he could go back to despising her again.


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, King's Landing

Aliena

"Mylady! You need to wake up, there is a message for you!" Aliena woke up with a horrible headache and a queasy stomach. She gulped down a chalice of cold water that stood on her bedside table, the candlelight burned in her eyes. Outside, the sky was light grey, the sun still hid under the horizon. "It is not even morning! What can be so urgent?" She sat up in her nightgown. "My bedrobe, please, Kenna. I can hardly see anyone like this." Her bedrobe was a speck of colour in her normally black, white and grey wardrobe. The red velvet was comfortable and warm. "Let him in, whoever it is." Kenna left and a man came in, a servant, plump and soft with mouse brown hair and a wisp of a beard over red pimples. His face was plain and yet so unpleasant to look at that most people would not even spare him a glance. Aliena knew him though…."Lord Varys. To what do I owe this pleasure in the small hours?" The man smiled slyly and when he spoke, the soft tones gave his identity away. "Mylady, your uncle is in greater danger than normally. Your lady aunt has forbidden him to take part in the melee."

"So he is determined to be slaughtered by a man with a lion sewn over his heart."

Varys nodded.

"I see little chance to convince him against it. Not even the truth will. He will not be shamed by his wife in public, he will want to show off his prowess and prove them all wrong."

"Do not play with me like that, Mylady. It hurts me greatly. Surely you have already found a way."

Aliena smiled. _Just like you, which is why you are here._ "Nothing is farther from my mind than hurting you, Lord Varys ... Yet, the only way would be to show him that it would be more shameful if he participated." The ugly man's mouth twisted into the softest of smiles. "I have thought the same."

He came closer. "An opportunity came along to test the loyalty of a fine lord…"

"A man with an extra hand, you mean, Mylord?" Varys chuckled to that. "We understand each other. Should he prove unfit, it would be good-"

"If I convinced my uncle. You have my word. The melee is only later today. I will sit with the queen and leave Lord Stark to his duty on this fine morning."

"I am sure you will be able to lighten up our gracious queen's mood. She is very convincing in her role as sulking wife." The man slumped back into his role and left her chambers.

Aliena could not sleep anymore, now that she was awake, the thoughts from yesterday night came back to her. She had seen him escorting Sansa back to her rooms in the keep. Why did he treat her with odd gentleness and had only harshness and scorn for her? She still felt the anger and embarrassment in her stomach, as if she had swallowed a lump of lead. Tears rose to her eyes, again, but she bit them back. _He will not have me cry. He certainly does not deserve any thought at all._ Yet, he was on her mind far too often since that incident on the kingsroad. Actually, even earlier. _This has to stop. I make a fool out of myself. I am a Baratheon of Storm's End, A Swann of Stonehelm. The stag and the swan are my sigil. They are both graceful, strong and proud. 'Foolish' is nowhere to be found in that enumeration._ Well, if he was so fond of the young Stark, he should be. Pretty she was, delicate and sweet. But her mind was as quick as a tortoise and she was spiritless and silly at best. _You are unkind. She is only a child._ Aliena grew fond of the girl, she noticed, Sansa was foolish but also lovely and innocent and she longed for the days when she herself had been like that as well. She had never dreamt of the same things as Sansa Stark and she was convinced that she had been more astute, but when she came to this place, eight years old and sad beyond measure, she had had a purity and naivety that she missed today. Life had been simple in those days. _He was kinder to me in those days as well. Maybe he likes them young._ She thought, full of scorn and hurt pride. Then she shook her head. No more thoughts about him. If the Gods were good, he would lose the tourney today. The sun slowly crept over the horizon and painted the sea in all shades of red and yellow. She rang for her maid. Her stomach was still too upset for food but she needed to take a bath and get ready. She would shine more than yesterday and show him what he missed out on. _If Loras Tyrell beats him, I will give the boy a dance._

Her bath was scented with sweet, fragrant oils and she dabbed some perfume behind her ears and on her neck. The queen and most ladies went for roses but Aliena loved the exotic smell of jasmines from Essos and by now, the scent was associated with her. When it came to the choice of dress, Aliena found it hard to decide. Normally, she dressed in shades of black and white, with accents in silver and gold. Great occasions asked for something more outrageous, though. There was a gown, made of a fine red velvet, darker than blood. The fabric, the embellishments and the seamstress had been part of Cersei's gift for her nameday. The queen knew that a dress was a woman's armour and this gown would blind every enemy.

She especially loved the long, dagged sleeves that were gathered up at the front up to her elbow to show the heavily embellished, tight undersleeves made from the same fabric. It did not have her signature look with the split skirt and visible underskirt of a different fabric. Today, the red would clothe her from head to toe. The neckline was low, heavily embellished in gold and pearls and left most of her shoulders bare. Daring. _Why not? Joffrey will think I wear it for him, Cersei will approve of the Lannister red as well and it will certainly turn heads._ She was past feeling uncomfortable in the centre of attention but maybe it was a bit too … _Bugger that. She would wear it. It is will show every curve. Kenna will need strong arms to lace up my corset today._

Her sight in the looking glass made her happy. Kenna had done her best, her stomach was flattened, her waist even more defined and her breasts looked fuller and rounder. To compensate for the Lannister colours, she wore a heavy golden necklace with a garnet-eyed stag's head in the middle, the antlers touching her collar bones. Filigree scrolls framed the stag's head to the sides. Intricately wrought golden earrings with only a few tiny garnets rounded off her look. Kenna pinned up the upper half of her hair over the nape of her neck with a golden comb shaped like antlers, the rest fell down to her hips. _Yes, he will see what he misses out on. And I look every inch the king's blood._ She walked down the steps to the queen's rooms, where she would break her fast this morning. Joffrey's jaw dropped when she walked in. _Good._ The queen gave her choice of dress an appreciative nod. "You look very elegant, dearest." she said in a voice as sweet as honey. Aliena knew her courtesies. "It is fashioned from your generous gifts for my nameday, Your Grace. I thank you, again. It is most beautiful."

"It is indeed. You look every inch a grown woman now, ready to marry." _She thinks I want to impress lords and knights, so that they ask for my hand._ "I hope not, Your Grace. I do not feel ready to leave my home. I would rather stay, unless my family has found someone...fitting." Aliena knew Cersei wanted her for Joffrey. She wanted her blood, the king's true blood, for her grandchildren. And she knew that Joffrey wanted her and she could never refuse her golden boy. She seemed content with her reply.

"Hopefully not for some years. I married late and so did your mother." _Yes, and see how happy it made you both._ But Aliena just inclined her head and took a seat.

"Your uncle will fight in the melee today." The queen managed to sound angry but Aliena took up a hint of satisfaction.

"The king will fight in the melee himself? What a folly. No man would dare to strike out against him and he is in no state to fight. He will bring shame on himself." Aliena sounded concerned.

"I tried to talk him out of it, I even forbade him to fight. To no avail. There is no use in trying to convince him." the queen's tone was sour. _You are scared I will sway him, huh._ Joffrey had recovered. "A king should fight. Only women and weak men fear a fight." _So, which of both are you?_ "Who do you bet on, Aliena?" he asked, voice filled with challenge. "Why, I would never bet against your kin. My gold is on your uncle." She replied, courteous. Indeed, she did hope it would be him, or, better even, the knight of flowers.

"You would lose your gold then. Good, that ladies are not permitted to bet anyway. The kingdom would be in high debt." he japed. _Ask your 'father' for the debts he created, then._ "That may be so. Who will win then, my prince?"

"The Hound. I commanded him to." he sniggered like a girl. "I am sure he will be obedient as always." Aliena replied as graciously as she could. "I would like to see the Knight of Flowers beat Gregor Clegane. It would be spectacular indeed!"

Joffrey did not care for the boy much, he was jealous. "I hope the Mountain will pluck him off his horse and smack him into the dirt." Joffrey replied, his voice dripping with spite. "Well, we will see." she took a sip of her orange juice.

Aliena soon left for the campsite to talk to her uncle. She was on her way to the huge golden tent when she saw Ned Stark, walking briskly away from it. "Lord Stark!" she called out and he came her way.

Ned Stark

He was on his way to the tourney grounds when the girl called for him. She was pretty, with the Baratheon looks, height and robust built, so unlike her cousins. And she reminded him of her mother a lot. _Alyssa._ Her name was still a sweet melody in his ears, laced with bitterness. She had refused him, almost twenty years ago. The girl wore Lannister red from head to toe, though. _Even his own kin is more Lannister than Baratheon._ He reached her. "Mylady?" He inquired, politely, as he hoped.

"My uncle wants to fight in the melee, I heard. He is in no state to fight, my lord, in all honesty. He would be a laughingstock at best but… Well, the risks of these playful fights are plain since yesterday."

 _The dead squire. She fears for his life._ "Do not worry, Mylady. The king has agreed not to fight for he would not win fairly."

The girl seemed surprised, but relieved. "Thank you, Mylord. The realm owes you a great deal." She curtsied. In a different world, she would be his daughter, he thought. Robert loved her dearly, he knew that much. More than any of his own children. He had wanted her to marry Robb but the Lannister woman had refused to send the girl North. _She likes her, too._ That was peculiar enough. As far as Ned knew, there was no other person they both confided in. He watched her, a red, tall shape in the distance and for a moment, he felt remembered of his days in Storm's End.


	11. Chapter 11

The same day, moments later.

 _Aliena_

She took her seat next to Joffrey on the dais. With the queen and Myrcella absent, she was the highest ranking lady on the gallery. The horn blew and _he_ came in, in dark grey armour with an olive green cloak that looked like a rag compared to Jaime Lannister's finery. The commons, or rather the common women, rooted as the queen's brother rode in, like a knight from a tale in shining armour, even his horse dressed in gold. _He knows how to win their hearts. No one will root for the Hound when he is set against the sun himself._ She almost felt sorry for Sandor Clegane. Almost.

They rode when the horn was blown, lances aimed at each other. In the last moment, right before the impact, the Kingslayer shifted in his seat and Clegane's lance caressed only the shiny shield, while the golden lance hit him square. _Don't fall. Please._ He did not and only now, Aliena realised what she thought. This morning, she had wanted him to lose...she still did, surely.

They took the second round and this time, Clegane was prepared. His lance knocked Jaime off his horse and he rolled in the sand, his shiny armour dulled by dirt, his helmet dented and turned. The commons did not root for him anymore, they laughed at him. Even the lords and ladies on the gallery could not hide their chuckles and Robert's booming laughter rang over the tribune. Her eyes were not on the kingslayer though. _He is clever. Cleverer than most people think. Cleverer than I thought._ She looked at him, mildly impressed against her will. He had ridden over to the far end of the lists but now he turned around on his seat and his eyes met hers, even over the long distance. Aliena felt her heart flutter and looked away, quickly. _Not again._ The next time she glimpsed over to him, he looked the other way. "I told you the Hound would win. What do I get as a reward?" Her cousin grinned at her smugly.

"You said the Hound would win the tourney." _I could wipe that grin off your face if you want a reward._ "He will. You will see. And then, I will have my reward."

Aliena knew what he wanted. It was a pain most of the time, to keep him away. But it was useful as well. She would content him with a quick, wet kiss. The thought alone would have sufficed to make her shudder but she did not let her disgust show. The kisses satisfied him for now...later, she would have to think of something else.

The next riders appeared at the ends of the list. Gregor Clegane...she remembered his brutish face, now concealed by a helmet, his size and the look in his eyes... _If_ he _had not come to my rescue, I might very well lay bloodied and dishonoured in a pavilion, maybe even dead. He refused me harshly but he saved me nonetheless._ A gasp went through the crowd and Aliena looked up. Loras Tyrell had entered the lists, clad in silver armour with black vines, set with forget-me-nots of sapphires. _That won't protect him from Ser Gregor's lance._ He wore a cape sewn with real flowers, hundreds of them. _He looks like a maiden._ Aliena found his choice of dress ridiculous.

Both riders readied their lances, the horn sounded and the boy spurred his lean young mare. On the other side, Gregor rode as well but his heavy courser did not gallop in a straight line...he seemed distracted by something and while Ser Gregor still fought will his horse, Ser Loras was already on him, lifted his lance and hit the right spot. It looked as if he only tapped him lightly, yet, the Mountain fell backwards and his heavy horse fell with him. The crowd went mad for the young, shining knight, gasps and clapping and cheers sounded over the gallery, drowned out by the Hound's rasping, hollow laughter. _Enjoy your brother's misfortune as long as it lasts..._ In the middle of this scene, Aliena saw Ser Gregor rise, his helmet next to him on the sand. "My sword!" he bellowed, his face was dark red with rage.

It took him only a single blow to separate the horse head from the body. Aliena had never heard a horse dying. It was blood-curling. The laughter had vanished, turned into shrieks, shouts and cries as Gregor strode over to the end of the lists where the Knight of Flowers still sat ahorse. The boy called for his sword but it was too late. The Mountain grabbed the horse's reins but the boy kept his seat until savage blow took him in the chest, denting the silver plate. The shining knight rolled in the dirt to the Mountain's feet, there were shouts everywhere as the man rose his sword and Aliena was sure she would see the boy die, when a rasping voice warned "Leave him be" and a soot-grey iron fist wrenched the Mountain away from the boy. Gregor was wild with rage, lifted his sword for a savage blow at his brother and Aliena heard herself shouting. "No!" But the Hound parried the blow and fought back. Their duel seemed to last forever, she stood now, tense and scared and upset, shouting again although it made no difference. The Mountain sent half a dozen blows to his brother's helmet, each parried by the soot-grey sword. Yet, Sandor never so much as aimed at his brother's unprotected head. _Oh Gods, be good, protect him._ In the midst of the tumult, Aliena heard her uncle's booming voice "STOP THIS MADNESS IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!". Sandor Clegane went to one knee and his brother's blow hit only air. Gregor seemed to come to his senses now, dropped his sword, glanced at the king with fury and then strode off briskly. Some made meek attempts to stop him. "Leave him!" The king ordered. Aliena felt blood rushing back into her fingers, which she had clutched so tightly that they went numb. _Oh thank the Gods._ She still stood on the gallery when he looked up. His eyes were covered by his visor but she could feel them on her. _He is so fierce, so brave, so strong. And he helped the boy when no one else did._ Loras Tyrell came, dressed simply now in a linen tunic. He looked like a little girl next to the Hound. "I owe you my life. The day is yours, ser." The Hound just stared down at him. "I am no _ser._ " He only rasped but the victory was his as well the 40 000 gold dragons and the cheers of both, commons and nobles. _Has anyone ever cheered for him before?_ Aliena wondered as she stood up there, clapping and cheering and smiling.

Later, she walked with Joffrey to see the archery competition. Her cousin, Ser Balon Swann wouls be there and he was extraordinary. She hoped he would win, he had always been her favourite cousin. _Little wonder if you consider the competition._ Joffrey had other plans, though. She protested but the boy dragged her to the edge of the large field, where the shadow of the trees obscured the vision. She wanted to see whether her cousin fared well but Joffrey only grinned smugly. "You promised me a reward, remember? He won. My dog won."

Aliena tried to bite back her words. "I never promised anything." She said, almost cooly. "You can not demand anything of me, Joff." she said. He became angry, she saw it in his eyes. _Soothe him now. What does it matter, a peck on the lips, away from prying eyes._ She came closer, she was taller than him, something he did not like being reminded of.

"I am your prince-"

"You are and yet, I am no whore. You can ask me, respectfully. And if I am inclined, I will show myself kind." She murmured into his ear. He looked at her. "A prince does not beg!"

"You should never beg." she agreed. "But you deal with a lady. Ask me kindly. I am not your dog." He saw he could not win like this. He liked to please her and if it came so easy... He knew he would get what he want. She saw the greed in his eyes.

"Kiss me, sweet lady. here in the shadow of the trees. Show me your affection."

She bent down, kissed him lightly on the lips and wanted to draw back but he held her head tightly. She felt his tongue on her lips, knew she would have to part hers soon and begged the Gods to send someone, anyone.

"Chrmchrm." The boy let go of her neck and she swirled around. _Anyone but him._ He had changed into a dark green plain linen tunic and black breeches. Again, she felt the urge to protect him. That was, until she saw his face. His mouth was a thin line and his eyes were burning with rage.

"Dog!" Joffrey was exhilarated. "The lady just paid her wager. She bet against you, she thought the _Knight of Flowers_ would make it." Joffrey laughed but Sandor Clegane didn't. _That is just not true._ She wanted to tell him that Joff got it wrong, that she had to bet on the kingslayer in _their_ presence. But she didn't. The Hound turned to her, disdain in her eyes and for once, she could understand. She wondered whether he had seen how Joffrey had held her head. She hoped he did but she feared not. It had been Joff's right hand and he had come from the left. "Hoped for it, did you?" he rasped, sneering. Joffrey laughed as if he had made a jape. "N-no. It was very brave how-" She sounded like Sansa. " _Brave_." he spat the word out. "Prince, the King requests your presence. The feast starts soon." He turned around, without a word and strode over to the archery field that now laid deserted. "Come, Aliena." Joffrey called for her as she did not follow him. She moved as if she was made of wood.

The feast in the evening was a splendid affair in different tents and sites. A group of musicians here, a few puppeteers there and two singers sang the "Dance of Dragons" on an open field lit by torches and the full moon but Aliena could not appreciate the extravangance. It was all wasted, her dress and her finery, all the care she had taken with her appearance. Many lords and knights came to her, begged for a dance, complimented her on her beauty, some even on her character. She danced with some of them, to not give rise to questions. She kept a smile on her face all the time, a gracious one for the compliments, a sweet one for the dance and a suggestive one when she joked with them. But her mind was elsewhere. She could not forget the expression on his face.

"Mylady?" Ser Andar Royce had a pleasant voice and a pleasant face. "Forgive me, Ser. I fear I am a little tired." Another smile, apologetic this time. He still had his hands on her waist, hers on his shoulders. But they no longer moved to the music.

"Shall we go outside? The air is fresher there. But I can also escort you back to the castle if you wish, Mylady." She knew he would without any second thoughts. He took her hand and led her out of the tent. He was a handsome man in his twenties, strong and battle proven like his father, with a quick mind and a gentle nature. The heir of the Runestone, the impressive fortress of old Bronze Kings. He was a good match, even for her…Although she would have to give up Storm's End for him. Yet, her heartbeat did not quicken when she was with him as it did when... _Stop._ Even now, as they stood outside, alone under the stars, she felt nothing apart from sympathy and respect. He had taken off his half cape and laid it over her bare shoulders to keep her warm. "Do you feel better now, Mylady?" he asked softly.

"Yes, thank you, Ser Andar. You should go back inside, I am bad company I fear." She gave him a smile, an honest one.

"Not at all. Lady Aliena, you are ... the best company. You are clever and witty and kind. Beautiful as well. … I -" _He would ask her to marry him. She couldn't._ "-please, Ser. Do not speak further. Not here. Not now. Not...yet."

He looked at her face, trying to understand. "You are not ready to leave home?" he asked, still kind. _He is good and kind and gentle. Why do I not want him?_ "No, not yet. I lost my parents early, my aunt and uncles are the only family I have left."

"I understand. You are still quite young. At some point you will start your own family, though." "At some point, for sure." She tried to smile but the thought frightened her. It was easier to be alone, with no one to look after and no one to care for.

"You could visit the Vale, Mylady. I would happily show you Runestone. A great fortress, impressive and strong with a long history. I am sure you would like it. It is a lot like your home."

"Like the Red Keep?!" Aliena was puzzled.

"Like Storm's End. I thought-"

 _He understand me._ "Yes. You are right, good ser. I would love to. Maybe in autumn, when the trees change colour." She was sure he noticed how she pushed it far into the future but he let that pass and did not push her any further. When she shivered, her took her hands in his to keep them warm. They talked of other things and after a while, Aliena asked him to go back into the tent. He did as she bid, kissed her hand and promised to say goodbye to her on the morrow. She was left alone in the cold night, his cape still around her shoulders.

"A true knight, huh?" A voice rasped from the trees behind her. She swirled around. Sandor Clegane stood in the darkness, moonlight illuminated his face dimly. She walked over to him, to the edge of the forest. He was drunk, very drunk, and he stood there in his linen tunic, leaning against a tree, wineskin in hand and pain in his eyes. Suddenly, the lump of lead was back in her stomach again. _Now._ she thought. She did not need to explain anything, yet… He stood in front of her, no expression on his face.

"What you saw in the woods...I did not. I mean...I did not want to…"

He sneered. "You stammer like a fool."

"I know." A pause. "What I mean to say is, I did not bet against you. I said I'd bet on the Kingslayer but I had no other-"

"I don't bloody care who you bet on, little swan. You like the Knight of fucking Flowers, you bet on him, I don't care. It was my dirty sword that saved him. What do you say to that, huh?" He wanted to leave but she held on to his arm. She felt his heat through the thin fabric. "Don't go. Please." He stopped and turned to look at her. "What?" Aliena laid out her words carefully, she wanted to make him understand. "When you fought your brother...You stood in his way when no one else did, when all the king's white knights shyed away. You were very brave. You fought so well. I was … proud. I am happy you won the tourney, you deserved it." _Now the other thing. "_ Joffrey dragged me into the woods, demanded a reward. What was I supposed to do? I thought it would only be a peck on the lips but he held my head tightly and he tried to - you came just in time." When she looked up, most of the rage was gone from his eyes. "I don't care what you do with the boy." he said, but his voice had lost its sharpness. "Or with that other." He looked down upon her. "A nice cape." Now he was mocking her again. She knew how it looked like. Loras yesterday, Joffrey and Andar today. She seemed to be very generous with her affections. "Ser Andar was just-"

"Knightly?" He rasped. "Spare me." But he stayed, his gaze on her.

"I was cold. But if it makes you happy." She took the cape off and flung it onto the grass. Her shoulders were bare again and the cold night air made her shudder. His gaze flickered over her,he took in the view. She liked the way he looked at her. It had paid off, after all.

"You are beautiful." His voice was bitter. Aliena did not know what to reply to that. She leant over to him, her body touched his and she felt the warmth of his skin through his tunic. She stood on her tiptoes, her face only inches away from his. She inhaled the familiar smell of wine and horse, sweat and something musky. For a moment, they breathed each other's air. A breeze brushed over her skin and she shivered. Then she felt rough, warm hands on her naked skin. She looked up to his face again, their eyes locked. She lifted a hand up and cupped his good cheek. She knew her fingers were ice cold but he did not flinch away. _Will we kiss now?_ But he did not make a move. She stretched and then planted a kiss on the burned side of his face, very softly. The scarred skin felt strangely smooth and subtle but she smelled the strange odour of the liquid that oozed from his wounds. She backed away to look at him. His gaze dropped to her lips for a moment and she was sure he would kiss her. "Keep those lips off me, swan." He rasped and pushed her away. He strode away until he almost stumbled over the half cape. He picked it up and tossed it over to her. "Keep your fine knight's cloak, princess." he sneered and staggered away. Aliena leant against the tree. _Oh Gods. This is not true. I have sunken so low...Refused by him, of all men. This is it. I will stop now. I will go back into the tent and flirt and charm until I feel myself again. And I will never, never again waste a thought on him._

Sandor

He could have slapped himself. Not just slapped, he could have impaled himself on his sword. She had been so beautiful. Even more so than usually. The gown had shown more than the others and his imagination was fuelled. He had already seen it before the joust. He remembered her, cheering for him when he won against the kingslayer. And he had seen her standing up there, clutching her hands, her face pale and frightened. For him. 40 000 gold dragons were not much but for a tiny moment, drunk on the sight, he had thought about asking her. He had laughed bitterly about that, later.

After the joust all he had wanted was to talk to her, see whether she had forgiven him. But then he had seen her in the forest, the brat's dirty hands wrapped around her neck, his wet, fat lips on hers. The expression on his face, so smug. That had been hard enough to swallow.

Later at the feast, he couldn't keep his eyes off her but it had only fuelled his anger and glumness. She had danced more than a dozen times with knights and lords and lords' sons. He had left the tent to breathe but not even there, she left him in peace. She had come out with that Royce, all goggle-eyed and full of sickening courtesy, he had been. He had almost asked her to marry him. That bloody bastard knew her for two days and was so insolent to think she would consider him. It had made him sick. She had rebuffed him though, although not as harshly as she should have.

Then, she had been alone then, for the first time this evening. He could have just stayed quiet, she would not have noticed him. But he had been weak. Again. She had tried to explain everything to him. She had been so apologetic and he had liked that more than he cared to admit. She wasn't indifferent. He remembered the feeling of her skin, soft and smooth and cold. Her lips on his scarred skin, tingling as every touch on that side did. She had been so close. He had smelled her perfume, her natural scent. But as every time, when he wanted to, his courage had left him. _Give me a battlefield, a sword, a pit full of angry lions, anytime. Not this bloody dance where I know not a single fucking step._ The truth was, he was scared of the rejection that would inevitably come. Surely, she wanted a knight, a lord. She was meant for one. She was pretty and a fine little lady and he was a repulsive dog at best. Nothing good would come out of growing too fond of her, only pain and humiliation and he had enough of that already. He would not allow her to reject him. _Bugger this. She will forget about it. I will. It is nothing that can't be cured with some wine._ She had wanted to. He had seen that. Somehow, she had wanted to kiss him. _Aye, and the spoilt brat and the Royce as well, for all I know._ Perhaps it was just another scheme. Make every man fall for her and then use them for her advantage. Now, that he thought about it, it seemed likely. _Bugger her and her lies and falsehood. I am done with that._ The familiar hot feeling of anger rose in his chest. This was good. He would not bother with her anymore. There was no point. He cared about nothing and no one. He was made to be alone. That was what made him strong. No one would tear that down.


	12. Chapter 12

King's Landing, 298AC

Aliena

Eddard Stark started asking questions. He had talked to Littlefinger about Jon Arryn's death. He had talked to Varys about Jon Arryn's death. Both assured him that asking questions lead to Jon's sudden death. A cleverer, more self-centred man than Ned Stark would have been sensible and stopped asking. But the Lord Hand was not used to the ways of the capital, where one wrong word could lead to the black cells, or worse. Aliena knew that nothing could protect him. He had no friends here but Robert, and Robert had no power at his own court. _How could he allow Cersei to isolate him like this?_ Aliena knew that her uncle had little love for courtly intrigue and even less talent for it. _He wears the crown, he sits on the chair, but all he has are whores and wine and hunts._ She could not help Ned Stark, but she could help his daughters. She would. Aliena had grown up in Storm's End with a strong sense of justice. Something not even the queen could suppress. She tried to protect those that were innocent and blamed those that deserved it. Sansa was still slow-witted and naive but the royal court would make her grow up quickly. She herself had as well.

Arya, on the other hand, was quick enough but too wild. She would be hard to protect and even harder to teach. _She is truly of the North._ Aliena thought, as she passed through one of the deserted corridors in Maegor's Holdfast to see the little girl hopping on one leg in the middle of the hallway. When Arya saw her coming, she ran away, quick as the wind. Yet, Aliena would try. Maybe the little one could live in Jesmond, the keep and the village by the river she had gotten from her uncle. She would be safer there and could pose as an orphaned boy... _Hopefully, there is still time._ Lord Eddard was too close already and, knowing Cersei, the queen would not stop to consider consequences but turn on him, claws and fangs out, and thereby spell it all out for Ned Stark and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

 _If only Littlefinger had not meddled with this as well. Too many cooks spoil the broth, indeed._

From an early age on, she had talked to Varys about the happenings of the city. Trust him she could not though. He said he wanted the best for the realm but the best for the realm and the best for her were not quite the same. No, in this game, there were no friends. There were some you could make use of and get used in return. But the trusting man was dead before he even played his first card. This was a game for single players, lonely players. And she was that for sure.

Eight years old she had been when she had come to the capital, only little older than Cersei had been when she had lost her mother. Her uncle loved her, but for her face that resembled her mother's so much. She had learned that he loved it when she behaved a certain way. So, she did if she wanted something.

Cersei, in turn, had loved it when she helped out Joffrey or supported her in front of the king.

Joffrey loved it when she was cruel and devoted but fierce. Jon Arryn had loved it when she had acted like a smaller, more female version of Robert. Ned Stark wanted her to be like the beautiful Alyssa as well. Tywin Lannister liked her best when she was shy and sweet, unlike her uncle and unlike her aunt. Everyone had a favourite version of her but no one knew her. 'Aliena' was a person completely unbeknownst to the world. She had grown accustomed to it and she had learnt to appreciate it as well. No one knew her really so no one could foresee what she was about to do and not many could understand what she had done in the past. She was like a dozen shadows, the main body obscured by the bright light.

"Mylady?" her old maidservant, Kenna, perhaps the most trustworthy soul in the capital, stood at the door. "Mylady, you were asked to take a walk in the gardens." _Littlefinger? Or Varys?_ She straightened her skirts and took the long walk from Maegor's Holdfast to the public gardens. They were close to the Great Hall, a beautiful piece of land situated between the high outer walls and the walls of the Great Hall and kitchens. They were beautifully landscaped with roses in all colours, peonies, fields of tricolor tulips, black orchids and two dozen other kinds of native flowers. There were flowerbeds with exotic blooms from Essos as well, most of them unknown to Aliena. There were benches of white marble, a huge fountain in the middle and densely leafed pergolas in its four corners. Aliena liked the Gardens but not as much as the Royal Park behind Maegor's Holdfast with its watergardens and rhododendron grove. The garden was almost empty at this time of the day, most of the nobles were in the Great Hall where Robert held his jolly court. An old spinster sat in one of the pergolas, book in hand. _An old little bird, that one._ A few gardeners worked on the flowerbeds but the fountain was loud enough to prevent them from overhearing anything. That was the trick: Not to hide, not to try and conceal. Bright daylight, obvious meetings, right in front of everyone's eyes. What would be less suspicious?

"Mylady, allow me to say you look ravishing this morning." _Littlefinger. What does he gain from this?_

"Thank you, Lord Baelish. I would say the same but I fear I have never learnt to lie as pleasantly as you do." The small man came closer, he was about her height, if not shorter. The sound of the water would drown out their voices now.

"Why are you not in the Great Hall? I thought the bees were always close to the honeypot." she smirked.

"Well, no honey is sweeter than you, dear lady." He left her time to smile at his compliment. He looked around, casually, as if admiring the beauty of the gardens. When he was sure no one could overhear he said. "The Targaryen Princess-"

"Daenerys."

"Yes. Daenerys Targaryen is round with some horselord's child. Our gracious king-"

"He will want her dead and Ned Stark will want no part in it. When is the small council meeting?"

"Later today, sweet lady. I do wonder though...what is your view?"

 _What is my view? Kill the girl and have a Baratheon on the iron chair for what? A day, a moon, a year? A Lannister after that and who knows what beast Joffrey will sire? - Or leave the girl alive, let her butcher those that are closest to me, probably me as well, let her take away what would be mine to give it to loyal opportunists? A hard decision indeed, I fear._

"I have no view on that. Wise men rule these kingdoms, not soft-hearted women. What I am far more interested in is why Lady Catelyn has taken the imp into her custody and is convinced he tried to kill her favourite son."

She caught him off guard. _You think you are the only one who comes to whisper into my ear?_

"I do not know. The young Catelyn Tully I knew well, very well, if you understand." He chuckled. "Lady Stark is a stranger to me, just like her motives."

"Then it was the young Cat Tully that hid in your brothel for a while just a moon ago?"

"I knew that the spider has little birds, I knew not that he sings just as well as they do."

He gave her an appraising look from cool grey-green eyes, then his gaze flickered to something behind her.

"It was most entertaining to talk to you, dear lady, but I fear you have got better company now." He bowed, low, and gave her a smug little grin. He knew he had wormed his way out of an answer.

"Aliena! You were not in your rooms!"

 _Of course not, obviously, I was here. Fool._

"Dear cousin. I bid you a good morning." She curtsied and ignored the huge dark shadow that fell on her when _he_ followed his petulant master. "I just found myself preferring a walk through the gardens to the stuffy air in the holdfast. Just like you, apparently."

"I just - You never walk around _here_. This is where the _others_ walk, you are the king's blood. You should stay to the royal gardens." His tone was petulant.

"Do you hold me for a singing swan in a cage, dear cousin?" she smiled to take the harshness out of her words. "Let me enjoy the freedom of choosing."

"Did you meet that Royce here again?" The boy was deeply suspicious and she saw Clegane's gaze flicker over to her for the blink of eye. _Still interested in that, are you?_

Bronze Yohn Royce had decided to stay at court to take part in the king's great boar hunt and his sons stayed with him. She had returned the blue cape to its owner the next morning and he had actually _apologised_ for being so direct. He was what Sansa would call _a true knight_ with glistening eyes but Aliena could not bring herself to feel more for him. It did not hurt to pretend, though. A jealous man was easy to manoeuvre.

"No, I met Lord Baelish here. _Ser_ Andar was so kind to accompany me on a walk around the battlements last night. A lady should not be left all alone outside at night, he said. I assure you, my prince, the sea looked truly magnificent in the moonlight and the stars shone twice as bright."

There was no sweeter sight than the anger in his eyes. _You refused me and yet you do not want others to play with your discarded toy. I detect a family likeness there._

"You will not meet with him anymore. He is from the _North_. I heard that they do not even dance and sing in the Vale because their old lady went crazy. And the old Royce, he will probably live for another dozen years. That André will probably inherit their draughty keep when he is well past _forty_."

 _Numbers were never your strong point, cousin._

" _Ser Andar_ is only a little over twenty, dear cousin. He is brave, handsome, gallant...what some would call _a true knight_."

Yes, there was definitely rage rising in him. Maybe he would struck her. She knew she should stop but she had not gotten over his rejection yet.

"A true knight?! I will be king one day. You would do well to remember that, cousin. I will be able to take what and whom I want." The boy was angry too. It was time. She took his hand in hers and leaned against the boy's shoulder.

"What and whom you want. As befits a king, dear cousin. I will make sure you get everything you desire." She kissed him on the cheek, lightly. _See, I do it with every beast._

The prince softened at her gesture of affection but a glance from the corner of her eye assured her that _he_ was not at all amused. _Good._

 _Sandor_

He had not paid attention to her anymore. He had ignored her the day after the tourney, all sweet smiles and secret touches with that Royce in the gardens. Joffrey had put an end to that though. For once, he was thankful for the boy's possessiveness. That bloody fool could not just turn up here with his shiny armour and empty words and take her away.

She did not want him, the prince's dog, burnt and ugly, fair enough. She had tried to make him one of her pawns, she failed. There was no reason for him to like the girl, his mind was set on that. He tried to hate her, he was angry, filled with rage, even when he woke up the next day. But a pitiful part of him was despicably weak and that part longed for her presence if not for her touch and words.

Neither Joffrey nor his mother would allow her to leave, even if she wanted to and Sandor was not even sure of that. _What can I ever be bloody sure about with her, anyway? Lies and lies and lies. Every single time._ He should stop thinking about her as he stopped looking at her. It was poison for his nerves, poison for his body.

Today, in the gardens, he had met her again. She had looked so innocently beautiful in a white gown with shiny pearls around the low neckline. As always her body had been more whore than maiden though and he had quickly looked away before he remembered the feeling of that pale, soft skin…

She had mocked him, right there in front of the boy. Joffrey had noticed nothing but it had taken all his self-control not to stride over and shake her and kiss that smug grin off her face. Wipe. Not kiss. He was done with that. "A true knight" she had called that lordling. "Ser", over-pronounced. As if she had to show him again what he could never offer her. _I never wanted to be a bloody knight. Fucking lies, tales to comfort women's hearts when their men were off killing and whoring. That is what knights are. There are only those who can defend themselves and those who can't. Ha, I would love to duel that fine pansy for her hand. He would not refuse, and that would be his last decision._ Sandor imagined how he would open the man she preferred from the navel to the throat. His entrails wouldn't be so pretty. She would be even more disgusted by him but at least, no other's hands would wander over her waist anymore, no other cheek would be caressed by those soft lips - apart from the boy's. She had done that to make him jealous as well. He saw right through the scheme but he could not fight the feeling that came with it. Like a stab in the guts at first but it stuck, like a bruise, a dull pain but a constant one. _What does she win from making me jealous though? Or does she do it out of spite? Does she detest me so much? - Of course she does. Have you given her a reason not to?_


	13. Chapter 13

King's Landing, Later that day

Aliena

"What do you mean, _they attacked Lord Stark openly on the streets of King's Landing_?"

"Ser Jaime has a temper, Mylady. We all know what his _virtues_ are." Varys stood in her rooms, disguised as a fat serving girl this time, an expression of remorse on his face.

"It is too quick. I do not like it. More lives will be at stake here, important lives. The queen will be all wildfire, her house shamed, her lover far away. All the while, the king still protects the man who has done that to her, that is how she will feel. And she acts on emotions, not considerations." Aliena took her seat at the table again, where Varys sat with a cup of wine.

"We have to protect Robert." she said, determined.

"I fear this is out of our hands, good lady. A hunt is upcoming. If you cannot make him stay, he will lose his life there. If you make him stay, he will most certainly lose his life here. It is his friend we need to worry about. You need to sing a sweet song, Mylady. One that will fix that issue in advance, for the queen cannot be swayed when roused."

"You tell me I should let my uncle go to his hunt like a sheep to the slaughter? You tell me I shall fight off _King_ Joffrey? My days are numbered then, as well. I have a grip on the boy. The man will be impossible to control."

"A boy is a boy, even if he wears a crown. Impossible it will not be, Mylady. You are still our best chance even if you have to sacrifice your-"

"Sacrifice my what? My family? My virginity? My life?"

"Your family is an old drunkard who loves you for your mother's face. Your virginity is surely a great good but there are ways to lose it twice. We do need your life though, for the coming turmoil, so it would be best if you found a way to keep it."

Aliena let her head sink on her arms. "This is it then. This was my childhood and now it ends."

"You have not been a child for many years. A girl left Storm's End but an adult walked through the main gate. Say goodbye, Mylady, cry the tears you need to cry. There is no kindness in lying to you. The boy is your chore and you will have a hard time with him. But we have no other choice, no second playing piece on the board." _You always have a second, a third. Do not lie to me, spider._

"I will talk to the queen on the morrow. She will still be full of anger but with a taste for revenge. And then I will visit my cousin and assure him of my neverending affection. Go now, Mylord. I have little love for your webs tonight. But I thank you. For your...honesty."

 _Aliena, King's Landing, The next morning_

Aliena went to see her aunt in the queen's airy chambers early the next morning. They broke their fast alone, no servants were around. Cersei had matters to discuss.

"It is insolent! He dares to threaten my blood! My father has shown the Reins of Castamere what happens to those that try to shame the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. Ned Stark will have his ballad soon enough." Cersei was full of anger, as expected.

"The Snows of Winterfell" would be fitting, I suggest." Aliena ripped a piece of white bread off the loaf and dipped it into the honey. "Their Lord is a bastard, indeed."

"He is a thorn in my side. He does not love me and Robert listens to him more than to me." _He listens to me most, though. Which song shall I sing for him, sweet Cersei?_

"It is especially frightening if we consider that my dear uncle might not live for long." A daring move on Aliena's side, but they were running out of time.

Cersei looked positively shocked for a second. _Yes, I know of that plan, too. But no worries, I will still try my best to stop you from murdering him. But if I do not succeed…_

"The king eats and drinks too much, Your Grace. He says riding keeps him young but the truth is that the fat will reach his heart and make him weaker. It already does. There is a study on that in Pycelle's libary." _Not that you would read it._

"That sounds truly...gruesome." The queen had pushed her plate away in feigned disgust, but it was almost empty anyway.

"His drinking contributes to that. The maesters find that excessive drinking in combination with a lack of exercise almost always leads to an early grave. And should the king die with Lord Stark still in the capital…"

The queen was alert now.

"He is no friend of yours, my queen, and not of the king's children either. I fear he might want to make my uncle Stannis king." _And take everything away from me._

"That would be outrageous!" _I trust you can tell me one thing or two about 'outrageous'._

"Yes. But if you consider it...Stannis is right up Ned Stark's street. Slow of mind, quick of sword, of prickly pride and full of himself and his honour."

"You might have the right of it, Mylady...but how would you react?" _Yes, Cersei, isn't the honey sweet?_ It all worked out as planned.

"Make him swear fealty to Joffrey. An oath on his father's bones. That he would keep. But if he didn't...there would only be the Wall for him." _He will refuse the oath if he knows the truth by then. His honour will not allow him to declare for a false king, let alone a Lannister incest bastard._

"He could escape before we can make him declare for Joffrey."

"He will stay with his dying friend. And then, he will only notice that it is too late to escape when the cold steel bites his skin." Aliena had made a _will_ out of the _would_ , but Cersei was all wrapped up in planning Eddard's demise.

"Send him to the Wall, fair enough. But his son might rise against his true king as well in response." Cersei was not yet completely convinced.

"The wall is not a bad place for Northmen, Your Grace. For them, there is honour in the Watch, his brother and bastard son are black brothers as well. A family reunion, if you will. Robb Stark will be Lord of Winterfell and preoccupied. And I suggest to keep the girls as wards of the crown. The North is no place for two little ladies. Sansa will marry Joffrey and Arya could take Lancel. Or the youngest Highgarden boy. There will be some offers, no doubt. Stark is a noble name. The only thing we have to prevent from happening is Lord Stark's execution. The North would rise, the Riverlands with them for certain, the Vale maybe and Stannis might join in as well." _And no one knows where Renly's loyalties lie._

"Indeed...yet, let us hope my gracious husband lives for many years." The queen smiled.

Aliena could see how pleased Cersei was. This was a solution for the impending catastrophe and so very elegant. No bloodshed, no upheaval, stronger Lannisters and a weaker North. _She thinks Robert will die soon. I will do what I can to protect him. I could try and make Lord Stark see sense. But nothing will protect my uncle forever, not from himself. And I will not suffer under Stannis. This is the best solution, for the realm and for me. I am sorry, Lord Stark. I am sorry, uncle. You are the heroes of the War. But war is over and this is not your stage._ Her only problem was Joffrey. The boy would most certainly not agree with their plan. To him, mercy would be a quick death, not life. Maybe she could present the Night's Watch as some slow torture for the proud Lord Stark. It was the only way but an uncertain plan at best. She needed her cousin's trust and affection now more than ever.

After breakfast with the queen, Aliena went on a hare hunt with Joffrey. The boy was even worse with an arrow than he was with a sword and it took a lot of self-control on her behalf not to release the poor creatures from their misery. Joffrey normally commanded her to shoot them in the eyes or the ears, he wanted to see the life go from them, he wanted to feel powerful when he took his dagger out, the hare shaking with pain, to cut strategically here and there, until the animal was dead and gone. The party was small, Aliena was the only lady, no other woman at court accompanied them when the king was not with them. Joffrey hated their cries and whining, he considered them weak. He loved the company of his cousin, and a few trusted kinghts that took after him in his cruelty.

They were looking for a place to rest and roast the hares when a boar crossed their path, not a massive one but a young, not even reaching up to Aliena's knee.

"Leave that one for my golden arrow." Joffrey aimed for the animal's head.

"My prince, this is only a babe. Let the little one be and we will have a fine roasted boar in a year. Kill it now and it will only feed wolves." Aliena said, from the back of her white filly.

"I shall leave a boar be although it came in to us, willing to die? Do you hold me for a woman? Its stupidity brought it here and I will just teach it a lesson. After I am done with it, he might still run...but not very far." His laugh sent shivers down her spine but she smiled.

"May I finish it off, at least, my prince? I have never killed a boar before. I imagine it to be exhilaring, a beast alive and dangerous now, only an ugly body in a moment. All it takes is an arrow." Joffrey looked at her, smiling his wicked smile.

"Your first boar? Good it is a small one then, it will be easier for you?" _How? It is smaller and quicker._

"My prince is gracious."

"Shoot it in the eye. I like to see them cry tears of blood." _That does not go as planned._ But Aliena could hardly refuse. Her arrows rarely missed a target, her cousin Balon had taught her as a child in Stonehelm. The arrow hit its target, blood welled up in the animal's right eye. Joffrey climmbed off his horse and walked towards the dying animal.

He took his hunting knife and pushed it into the animal's left eye. The dying shriek of the boar tore the silence that lay on the small hunting party. And then, another sound. Joffrey was laughing. Slowly, everyone fell in. But Aliena could not hear his rasping laugh. _He is the only one who does not have the backbone of an eel. We all bend and cower, only he does not._

The boy came back, his knife covered in blood but the sleeves of his doublet were still bright gold. "I don't want the wolves of this woods to have a reason to thank me. Garrett, pick it up and carry it. I will gift my father with it."

They rode on until they reached a meadow that stretched from one edge of the forest to another. The densely leafed canopy of a lime tree offered shadow. Joffrey called for a rest. "A fire, I have a taste for some roasted hare." A few young boys hurried to fulfil their master's wishes, the prince and his loyal knights and squires took their arrows and shot birds from the sky. Aliena walked over to the lime tree and sat down on the grass, her back against the tree trunk and the afternoon sun in her face. She needed some rest she had said and her gracious prince had allowed her, for she was only a weak woman and did not have the resilience of men and princes.

She recalled the events of the hunt. All of them were despicable lickspittles but _him_. _What has become of me? I should influence Joff to do good and not follow him blindly. I should have missed my target._ But she knew that the killing of the boar kept her in Joffrey's good books. He loved her for the cruel streak they supposedly shared. That alone would allow her to manipulate him in her favour. In the realm's favour. She would use his cruelty to make justice. Thoughts of remorse would not help her. A boar for a few men's lives, a good deal, surely.

A shadow fell upon her and she looked up.

"You are in my light."

"The prince asks you to taste the hares he shot for you." there was a hint of mockery in his voice. _More like the hares I shot myself._

Aliena got up, he did not even offer her a hand. She held her riding gloves in her hand, fine, dark red leather, soft and supple. Her skirts were crinkled from sitting and she smoothed them out with both of her hands. One of the gloves fell to the ground. Aliena bent down to pick it up, her hand reached for the soft leather- and brushed over fingers, rough and callused. The touch sent a prickling sensation through her body and his palm turned towards her reflexively. Their hans touched and, for a moment, she was reminded of the feeling of his rough hands on her shoulders. The memory alone sufficed to sent hot and cold waves through her body and she was thankful the long sleeves covered the goosebumps on her arms.

They got back up, both hands still on the glove, her fingers practically burned from his touch.

Aliena looked up to find his gaze fixed on her face. His eyes were dark, the black of his pupil had driven back the grey of his iris. _Is it the shadow or is it something else?_ She felt her heart pounding in her chest so forcefully that she was sure he could hear it, her breathing was heavy, as if she had run a mile. His eyes stared at her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

It was curious. His face was by no means handsome, with a heavy brow, high cheekbones and sharp features. It was like carved out of wood while the comely faces of Jaime Lannister or Loras Tyrell were cut from marble like the old statues in the gardens, with softer lines and more delicate features.

But there was something about his uncomely face that drew her towards him like nothing else ever could. She liked his sharp features, the strength in them. Maybe it was the expression of his eyes, the brutal honesty and the nonconformism, or his imposing always threatening figure that made her feel tingly all over, and _there_ , where her thighs met, she felt wetness soaking her smallclothes. She had never experienced something like this before. As they sank into each other's eyes, it was as if the world stood still, she heard no sound, not even the rustling of the leaves above her and saw nothing but those eyes, dark and enigmatic. There had never been more intimacy.

"Aliena! Come!" a high, boyish voice cut through the silence and in the same moment, Sandor let go of the glove and her fingers felt naked and vulnerable. The sounds came back in a loud wave.

"Aliena, my hares are roasted. Come, a prince does not fancy dining without a lady present." Joffrey reached their spot under the tree.

"You were supposed to fetch her, not keep her here, dog." The prince glanced at his sworn shield angrily.

"I fell asleep and he had a hard time waking me up, my prince." Aliena went over to her cousin and took him by the arm.

"What did you dream of, sweet lady?" Joffrey asked, smugly and eager for a sweet lie.

"What I dream of when I am awake, too." she looked at him, suggestively, lust still in her gaze when she remembered him.

As they walked over to the fire, she turned around to glimpse at _him_ but he stared straight ahead and did not turn to her once.

A wave of embarrassment rolled over her, hot and cold at the same time. _He did not feel the same. I thought we shared an intimate moment but to him it was nothing. He picked up my glove and brushed my skin. That was all there was. He must have thought me incredibly foolish for staring at him like I did._

But he did not. He could not explain the spell she cast on him and he felt _vulnerable_ , a feeling, he had sworn, he would never allow himself again. She made him weak but it was such a delicious feeling, sweeter than anything he had ever known. He knew he should not succumb to this weakness but he took more pleasure from it than from anything else. He could not stop and he could not stay away. Yet, he had to try. Try and not let it show, prove that he was a beast, a monster. It would go away, she would go away.


	14. Chapter 14

King's Landing, a few days later (298AC)

Aliena

"Sansa, my sweet, how does your father fare? I heard Maester Pycelle say that he is getting stronger with every passing day and he will soon wake up again." Aliena met the eldest Stark girl in the royal gardens, where the blooming rhododendron scented the air heavily.

"Yes, thank you, Mylady. I hope he does, I pray to the Mother every day."

"I add my prayers to yours, my sweet. He will soon wake up, he is a strong man. You look very beautiful today, Sansa." Aliena said, sweetly.

Sansa was pretty indeed, in a vivid green gown made in the queen's fashion.

"So do you, Mylady. You always do."

It was true, she wore a gown of black brocade, embroidered with silver swans, and an underskirt of silvery grey samite.

"You are too kind, Sansa. I thank you for following my invitation. A walk will take your mind off that dreadful subject for a while and we can see and feel the Gods' presence in the beauty of nature."

They passed by the huge rhododendron grove, in the centre of the park, separating the water gardens from the pleasure gardens with its maze and hedges and flowerbeds. Some of the blooms were already wilting, soft and browning they hung from the branches.

"Winter is coming." Sansa said, as she noticed those. _You are right, girl, more than you know. It will be coming for you, too._

"Strong words for a strong House. And always true." she smiled. Even in their house words, the Starks were upright and honest. But would that serve them well in the South?

" 'Winter is coming' is a strong motto but so plain! I would rather have a prettier sigil, a flower or a bird. And words that sing of honour and kindness."

"You can marry into a House with words you like better. The advantages a woman has in this world." Aliena laughed lightly. "But the black and gold of House Baratheon will clad you well. " She smiled and Sansa took up the hint, delighted.

"What are the words of House Swann again, Mylady? I am sorry, I have not had a lesson with a maester for a long time."

" 'No Foe but Injustice'." And fitting words they were indeed.

"Swans are no birds of prey, they do not parade their strength to inspire awe or to show dominance. Swans are elegant and peaceful, but dangerous when angered. They only attack to defend what is rightfully theirs. Or to get it back. There have been bloody wars fought about the Dornish marches for centuries. The Swanns of Stonehelm defended their lands but they have never ventured to conquer or to suppress. We have a strong sense of justice, maybe a queer one, but we will defend what is ours with all our strength."

"Those are strong words as well, Mylady. And swans are so beautiful! I have never seen a black one, though. Do you keep some in Stonehelm?"

 _I have not been to Stonehelm for two years._

"Maybe they do now, like you had your wolves. But swans are no pets, they go where they please and you cannot make them stay. I have always loved my sigil...swans are beautiful on the water, graceful in the air and elegant at land. Is there any other animal that conquered sea, sky and land with such perfection?"

"Indeed, they are very elegant in all circumstances. And so pretty. Just like you, Aliena. I love the embroidery on your dress, it is so delicate!"

"Aliena, Sansa." The two ladies turned around and found Joffrey walking over to them from the far entry of the gardens.

" You should have asked me to accompany you. It is respectless not to ask your prince."

"Forgive us, my prince. As you know, the Lady Sansa still worries about her Lord Father's health. I thought a walk would distract her."

"A good thought, Aliena." The boy said, and on an urging look from his cousin, he turned to Sansa.

"How are you, Lady Sansa? I look very pretty today."

"Thank you, my prince." The girl was breathless. "I just hope my father wakes up soon."

"Indeed, we all do. He has to answer for what he did to my uncle."

Sansa looked at him, shocked.

"The king will make justice, I am sure. Lord Eddard is your father's friend, Joff, and the father of your darling betrothed. We all pray for him, day and night, don't we, my prince?"

"Indeed. You can accompany me to the sept tonight, Lady Aliena." Joffrey looked at her, challenging.

"As my prince wishes. Do you pray to the old Gods or the new, Mylady?" Aliena took Sansa's arm again and moved into the direction of the watergardens.

"Both. The old Gods give my father strength, I hope, but I pray to my mother's Gods mostly. I love the tales, and statues and splendour of the septs."

"Yes, the septs are so very beautiful." Aliena agreed.

"Dog! We are here." The boy's sworn shield made his way through the royal gardens and looked out of place in his dark grey armour with a simple olive green woolen cloak, his ugly helmet under his arm and his burns red and prominent in the bright sunlight. Sansa seemed frightened but Aliena remembered their moment under the lime tree a few days ago and suppressed a pleasant shudder. When he reached them though, she was disappointed. He spared her only a small glance but looked at Sansa openly. _He fancies her. She really looks prettier with every day. Most other men would prefer the woman to the girl though, only he doesn't._ Aliena felt the sting of jealousy in her ribcage. What did the girl have that she did not?

"How do you like the royal gardens, dog?" Joffrey asked with mockery in his voice.

"A waste of space. Make this a tiltyard and it will serve you better. This leads the women to believe that nature is beautiful. It is not, it is cruel. Flowers get eaten and singing birds are easy prey."

He gazed over to Sansa who could not conceal her fear but Joffrey laughed.

"There you have it. Nature is hunting and death and blood. A pretty flower is there to be plucked or eaten." he said.

"I beg to differ." Aliena smiled. "There are many flowers who know full well how to protect themselves against natural enemies. Take the rose or the thistle with their thorns. Some flowers just taste bitter but a few are truly dangerous. Nightshade, a beautiful flower, Foxglove, so pretty to look at. Monkswood grows in the flowerbed over there. My favourite is the Bleeding Heart, those wonderful pink blooms that dangle from the haulm like drops of blood. They all look so pretty but touch them, consume them and you will die a painful death." Aliena smiled sweetly to Joffrey and her gaze briefly swept over Clegane as well. He still looked at Sansa and Aliena found the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.

"Nature is cruel and malicious. But beauty and dangerousness are not mutually exclusive."

"All these flowers are poisonous? What is their effect?" Joffrey asked, eager for gruelling descriptions.

"I do not know, my prince. I prefer an arrow, a knife over poison. Poison is a coward's weapon, they say."

"A woman's weapon." Clegane looked her in the eye this time and again Aliena felt a wave of warmth rush through her body. _Silly._

"Do you hold all women for cowards?" Aliena asked him, controlling the anger in her voice.

"Women cannot fight. They are not even cowards." he rasped, disparagingly.

She knew he wanted to provoke her but she would not show emotion in front of Joff and Sansa. The girl looked at them,wide-eyed but Joffrey seemed to enjoy their exchange..

"Women have weapons that bring the toughest of men to his knees." Aliena's smile was dangerously suggestive.

Joffrey joined in: "Women should be kneeling before their men."

"You have the right of it, my prince. Women should finally meet them as equals on eye level."

Clegane let out a short snorting laugh but Joffrey did not understand her jibe.

"Women are not equal to men." he said, spitefully.

"Not at all indeed, my prince." Aliena smiled sweetly.

"Men fight and conquer and serve their king. Women bear children and sew and serve their husbands. That is why we all look forward to holy matrimony."

Sansa did not notice the sharp tone of her voice.

"It is just like it is in the tales. A lady waits in the castle for her knight to return from war and then takes his thoughts off it with sweet songs."

Joffrey nodded approvingly to that.

"You will be my Queen and wait for me to come back to the Keep from war with a bloody sword and an enemy fewer."

"No man will dare to rise a blade against you, Prince." Aliena said, hoping to change the subject. It worked.

"I recommend them not to. I would slaughter them like my father slaughtered the rebels on those stony islands, Pyke. I will be feared." Joffrey loved to imagine himself as a Warrior King.

Aliena and Sansa assured him he would be feared and beloved at the same time and in perfect harmony they continued their stroll through the gardens until Septa Mordane appeared.

"I should go to the sept now, anyway." Sansa said. "I hope to see you in the Great Hall for dinner, My Prince, Mylady." She curtsied gracefully and hurried towards the sept.

Sandor

Sandor had left Joffrey and his cousin alone in the watergardens on the boy's command. He stood watch at the gardens' only entry and had time to think.

She had been jealous and he had somehow enjoyed provoking her, it had given him a tingly satisfaction. The Stark girl was pretty enough and sweet but foolish and meek as a sheep. It was the young swan that captivated him against his will. He had ignored her after the hunt and she was not amused although she hid it well. He did not know why, surely it was just hurt pride, but he felt _smug_ that it bothered her, at least a bit. Maybe it was just retribution for what she had done to him.

She had looked good today, every time he saw her, he was astonished by her beauty again. There had been a feistiness in her today and he thought he had glimpsed a bit of the person that hid underneath all those smiles and sweet words.

He liked her spiritedness, he even liked the fierceness with which she protected women. She had the right of it, somehow. Normally, he would support the prince. Women did not belong outside of a castle, they were there to bear and bring up children and keep the household and sew and whatever ladies did. His mother had not been a prominent figure in his life but he remembered her as a simple end lenient woman who saw to his father's needs. But somehow he could not imagine her sitting by the fire, sewing, with a babe on the lap, or silent at board, nodding to her husband's words. She belonged on a horse, she belonged right here where she made them dance to the melody of her keep, no household, no family would ever satisfy her as this game did. No man either. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to remember that moment in the woods, right after that sleazy _knight_ had left her. _You should have bloody taken her there and then. It would be over now and you would not be the pitiable creature she has made of you._ He had wanted to take her, there was no denying that. But he had not only wanted her body. He had wanted her to be kind to him, to flirt with him as she flirted with all the others and thinking about it alone made him gag. When did he turn into this weak wimp?

A messenger appeared and roused him from his thoughts. He was in a bad mood now and frightening the boy would allow him to vent his anger.

"What do you want, boy? Your prince is in there with his cousin, they do not seek company." Whatever they were doing in there. The boy was now almost a man and he lusted after his cousin in a sick way. _Why, just like me._ he thought, bitterly.

"It ii-is the Lady Swann, th-the king wishes her t-to come to his private audience chamber at once." The boy was practically shaking and he had not even started. _Pansy._

"Go, I will tell her." An excuse to disturb them was welcome to him and he decided not to think about the reason for that anymore.

He found them sitting on a bench, close together, her hand on his knee, her mouth at his ear as she whispered something that was apparently funny.

"Lady, the king wants to speak to you." he said, without any sentiment, he hoped. The girl stood up and nodded, ready to leave but the prince held her hand.

"I will accompany you to my father's rooms. I will wait in the ante chamber. Whatever he has to tell you, it is my right to hear it, too." Joffrey came with her, his sworn shield as his shadow. The Lannister guards that stood watch did not comment their presence there with a single word. They were the queen's and no one would refrain her son from doing something he wanted, even against the king's wishes.

Aliena walked in, slowly and left the door ajar for her cousin. He waited with the boy, admittedly curious what her uncle wanted and with a dark suspicion.

"Aliena." his voice was heavy with wine. "We need to talk. Eddard is gravely wounded and I have reconsidered. We need more houses on our side than just the Lannisters. Ned had the right of it, after all." _He wants her to marry._

"You will pick a husband from a great House. You refused Robb Stark already. Theon Greyjoy is about your age and the Greyjoys have a massive fleet."

"You cannot be serious, uncle. You want to make me spend the rest of my life in a draughty keep on Pyke where I will probably catch a chill and die soon? They do not even ride horses there. And Theon Greyjoy is a fool at best, with a cruel streak who has seen the brothel more often than the sept. He cares for nothing but killing and women." _Aye, and what's so bad about that?_

"If not him then Edmure Tully. He has the Riverlands behind him." _A bloody oafish popinjay. Is he serious, he would give her to_ him _?_

"Do you mean to insult me? I do not want to, uncle. Please, let me stay." Her voice had grown soft, a murmur almost. "I love you dearly and Joff and I are inseparable-"

What her uncle had liked once he did not like anymore.

"The boy has a betrothed now. He treats you more kindly than the Stark girl, questions will be raised at some point. No, Aliena, you are old enough. I have been convinced by you and Cersei, but Cersei wants you for her son and I will not let that happen. You will be lady of a Keep, ride horses, have children...whatever women do once they're married."

"Well, that is exactly what I do not want to do, uncle! I can go to Storm's End if you want me out of your sight. Renly will have me, I am sure. I can keep his household, please."

Even Sandor felt his chest tighten at her bidding tone but the king was in an especially bad mood today.

"You will marry before you are ten and seven, and if I have to drag you."

"You cannot force me. The Seven do not allow that."

"Then you will marry under the Old Gods. But you will marry. It is goodwill on my behalf that I let you choose."

A pause. Then her voice rang through the silence again, cold and harsh like a whip of ice. "Who else is on your list then, Your Grace?"

"Aliena-"

"-Who else?"

"Fine. God damn you, God damn this chair. The Redwyne twins, a Tyrell, Jon Arryn's boy." _A sickly babe of six or seven at most._ "A Waynwood, Beric Dondarrion-"

"Not a Royce?" _What does she even want with that bloody pansy?_ Joffrey shifted as well, anger on his pretty face.

The king ummed and erred. "Ser Andar has asked for the right to court you. Cersei…"

"She rebuked him because she expected that you would keep your word. Your Grace. ...Well, not him then. He has a brother."

"A younger son."

"Oh please, do not pretend you care a fig. Give him a keep and some gold and I will spend my life away from your precious children out of your sight."

"I bloody care. That is why I do this. Someone has to marry you off before-" _Before the boy gets his way with her or gets the throne and her. He wants to protect her. That and Stark is adamant about this,_

"What about Lord Tremond Gargalen then, Your Grace? Cletus Manwoody? Willas Tyrell? My cousin, Ser Balon?"

"Tremond Gargalen is a widower twice your age, Cletus Manwoody has a lazy eye, Willas Tyrell is a bloody cripple and your cousin is heir to only dust."

"I do not care for their looks. If I must spend my entire life with them, I want them to be quick of mind, witty, enigmatic, strong of character. I will write to them, as soon as possible. And as for the inheritance...I have a little keep of my own."

"If you marry someone I approve of, you will have more than that. Renly and I discussed it...You will be heir to Storm's End, as long as Renly has no children of his own, you will be heir to your favourite castle, all you need is a husband. Renly has suggested Ser Loras-"

"He can keep him as his squire but I do not want the boy for my husband. He is...not my taste."

"Another one then. A second son, if must be. You will have a keep of your own in the end and in the meantime-"

"Only if Renly has no children."

"He will not. As I said, in the meantime, I will give you another castle, or maybe rebuilt Summerhall. Would you like that?"

"I would like to stay alone. I would like to stay here. You know what I would like, Your Grace. Do not try to sweeten this bitter dish with a promise and a pile of stones. Yes, I love Storm's End, yes, I would love Summerhall. But I do not want it like this. I am my own person and I want it for me, not for the man I took to pay the price."

"You will take what I give you then. I can send you to the draughtiest keep on Pyke, marry you to a toothless widower with cobwebs around his cock. And you will still graciously accept it!"

Robert's voice was booming now, surely everyone present in the holdfast would hear him now. From his place at the door, Sandor saw the girl curtsying low.

"Yes, sell me like a horse on the market. You were bought as well, with fine Lanniater gold. Tell me, did it make you happy?"

 _You should not have said that, little swan._ But Sandor could not deny her fierceness... and neither could he deny that he liked this.

"OUT! Now. I will give you the worst man I can find, maybe I will give you to the king's justice."

"If I can keep my head, why not. At least I do not have to move far away." The girl walked towards the door.

"Any man, as long as he promises to take you away. A lordling, small and unimportant. A cold, tiny keep with cobwebs in the corners and damp walls. And you will swear your vows and bear his children."

 _Looks like I stand a chance, swan. How would you like a dog as a husband? Ugly, brutal, with no redeeming quality but my swordplay, everyone agrees. A tiny draughty keep I can buy for you, cobwebs and all._ Sandor almost snorted out loud with joyless laughter. He should not even think this. He did not want her.

"Whatever my king commands." She sank into a last, low curtsey.

"Mother would be disappointed." her voice was not more than a whisper but it was filled with contempt, sadness, anger and disappointment. It was a tone made to cut through a heart. Her uncle's heart.

She closed the door as she walked out but the king's voice rang through the thick oak wood as if it was a silky curtain. Aliena looked at Joffrey and then to him. The guards around them pretended not to be existant.

Her cheeks were pink, her breathing quick, her eyes sparkling with anger. She walked down the corridor without a word and Joffrey hurried after her. Groaning, Sandor followed them.

In the corridor where their rooms lay, she slowed down, but her face was still a mask of fury.

"I will not let it happen, Aliena. I swear, you will stay here, with me. Father is an old drunken fool, but I will make him see sense. Who knows maybe he dies and I am king then. You will not go anywhere once I am king. You will stay here for my pleasure."

"Thank you, my prince. The king might reconsider...if not, why, a lot of things can happen in half a year." She concealed her anger well but Sandor knew that under that pretty, smooth forehead, planning and schemeing had already begun.

She went into her chambers and left a boy and a man in front of the door, both desperate to keep her close, only for different reasons.


	15. Chapter 15

Hey! At the moment, I find writing this very difficult, you might have noticed. I have come to a tough part, in the book, there is so much going on at such an alarming speed and I need to squeeze it all in and make Aliena function in this greater scheme in a plausible way.

I am sorry that this goes at the expense of my style and maybe the coherence of this story. Once Ned is gone, it will all be easier and better, hopefully. I have some good chapters ready (at least I think they are good), I only have to push through these plot rapids.

Again, please review, I feel I need constructive criticism and support even more at the moment! And of course, thank you for the kind reviews! (Yes, Joffrey is a bastard in the truest sense of the word)

Thank you!

King's Landing, 298 AC

Aliena

Ned Stark was awake. The whispers rang through the Red Keep. Cersei and Robert went to pay the man a visit in the morning. Aliena was sure that the sight of Cersei would be enough to plunge the Lord Hand back into his slumber but Cersei lost the fight. The fat bruise that covered one half of her face was the loser's prize, it seemed. Ned Stark was the King's Hand again, although he certainly did not ask for it and Cersei had grown even angrier with the degradation. The Royal Hunting Party would leave on the morrow to chase the white hart in the kingswood. To Aliena's disappointment, no ladies were invited and in his momentary mood, she was the last woman The King would want as company, well, maybe the second last. But Aliena had inherited the Baratheon fury and would not concede.

Right after her uncle had commanded her to find herself a husband before he would, Aliena had written several letters, to the Tyrell heir, Willas, in the Reach, Lord Tremond Gargalen and the young Manwoody heir in Dorne, another one went out to her cousin, Donnel, for Balon would not do her any good. A pity, she liked her younger cousin far more than the heir. In the end, it did not matter. She would not say the vows with any of them, she had sworn as much to the Gods that night and the Gods had little love for oathbreakers. Last of all, she had written a letter to Andar Royce, the man who had still treated her with courtesy after her aunt had rebuffed him and his Lord Father so harshly. If it came to it, she had decided it would be him. The Royces were upright and honourable, but not as oafish as the Starks. Andar was easy to direct and his father would love her like his own daughter soon enough, he was carved from the old wood, a wood Aliena knew well. Ser Andar had assured her that he had not taken her aunt's words as a slight but merely as a sign of her love for her niece. In short, Aliena was back in his good books and in Bronze Yohn's, too. They were her plan for the worst case, the scenario where nothing would go as planned.

Today, Ser Andar spent the afternoon with her, in the gardens and in the library at first and then, when the sun had sunken below the horizon and the moon bathed the Red Keep in pale light, they walked around the battlements, listened the sound of the waves that almost drowned out the noise of the city.

"I would have never expected the capital to be so peaceful at night." Ser Andar said, as they stood on the wall that touched the sea, the faint feeling of spray on their faces and the rushing waves beneath them.

 _Peaceful? You stand between these murderous waves and that treacherous city and you feel this is peaceful?_

"Indeed. Staring out at the endlessness of the sea always makes me long for places I have not seen before, it gives me a taste of my own insignificance and that is truly humbling." Aliena chuckled, sweet and happily. _Tell me you want to take me to Runestone._

"I share that sentiment, Mylady. I have never been to the Free Cities, yet I wish to. Although, at the moment, I could not think of a place I would rather be." He looked her in the eyes, moonlight softened his features and he looked like a young boy. _Well, not what I wanted you to say...but we will get there, eventually._

"I am happy you still feel like this. You must believe me, Ser, I had no notion of my aunt's plans. A woman's heart is often too soft, they say." _As if Cersei had a heart of flesh at all. Golden it is, golden and cold._ She smiled an apologetic smile that would cut right through his heart. He would love her, she knew that. Men like him were easy prey. Chivalrous, kind, loyal, honourable. And Ser Andar had never loved a woman before, that was, if she could believe Varys' words. But she found it easy to, he was not at all on his guard.

"I do not blame her. Who could not love you, Mylady? I had not allowed myself to hope...yet, now, everything is different and I must tell you, my own heart is overflowing with that fickle friend, hope, and I would rather know the truth. I am sure, by now I have made a great fool of myself. All men are fools where women are concerned, Florian said, but I have been an oaf. You are clever and witty, kind and honourable, with a good heart. I have seen the smallfolk cheer for you, like they cheer for no one else. Of course, you are beautiful but I will not even dwell on that, surely you have heard it a thousand time before. You have bewitched me, Mylady, my mind, my soul, my body. I do not ask you to marry me now, I do not even ask you for a betrothal. These are stormy times. I just ask you...do I have a chance?"

Against her will, Aliena was touched. _I use him as my pawn and he is so kind._

"I have to confess...good Ser." A soft voice, no more than a whisper, a hint of embarrassment.

"I have to confess, that you have more than just a chance. I cannot put my feelings into words as eloquently as you. But be assured that you have an admirer in me, a supporter, a -" _lover._ She allowed her voice to break, delicately, as if her feelings got the better of her.

"Please, good Ser, I cannot continue. I have been too bold already. Just be assured that your kindness fell on fertile soil." _Shy and sweet but more daring than most ladies. That is what he wants._

"I do not push you, good Lady. Aliena. Your words are as good as a promise to me. In truth, they have moved me. We shall not speak of it any further now. I will wait until you are ready."

"My next nameday, it is, good Ser. I have promised to stay with my family until then." _Aye, hopefully talk has not reached his ears._ But she doubted it. And the good Andar would believe her words, not those of servants and spies.

"Half a year, no more. You might come to Runestone to see the leaves change colour then." _He knows the date of my nameday._

"I will very much love to." _A 'will' not a 'would'._

Ser Andar noticed the subtle promise in her words. He had held her hands for a while to keep them warm, now his face came closer to hers. He was a little taller than her, but not as much as…. _others_.

In the moonlight, she saw him close his eyes. He would kiss her, she thought, but no wave of anxiety rushed through her body, no tingly feeling in her chest. She did not feel appalled, not at all. But she felt no desire for him, his touch was warm but held no heat. She was about to close her eyes, when she heard a voice, low, rasping and cold with suppressed anger.

"The queen summons you to her chambers." _Him. Now, of all times._

The moonlight obscured the good half of his face but it coloured the burned half in cold hues of blue and grey. He wore no armour but ringmail and breastplate and Aliena wondered whether he had been there, in the shadow of the inner curtain wall, all along. She had heard not steps…had the sound of the waves drowned them out? Ser Andar had drawn his head back and positioned himself between Aliena and the Hound. If it had not been so tense, she could have laughed.

Andar wore a sword, fair enough, but apart from that only dark blue velvet and silk with copper embroidery. Although he was muscled and tall, the Hound was twice his size in width, muscled like a bull, and taller by at least a head. She had seen her shining knight with a sword, he was good, excellent, some said, and every inch his father's son and pride. But the Hound had grown up on the battlefield. Yes, if Andar was everything that stood between her and an angry Sandor Clegane, she might as well yield and take her chances.

"Thank you, Clegane. Be so kind, tell her I am on my way."

"I am not a bloody raven. I was told to escort the king's niece to her, I will wait here and escort you. Sing your sweet farewell quickly, swan." _He has been here for a while._

Ser Andar wanted to object, maybe he was not used to the harsh tone but Aliena did not let him. She turned to him, with nonchalance, she hoped, although her heart was booming in her chest with what could only be fear, surely.

"Thank you, good Ser." She let go of his hands. "I will remember your sweet words well. Think of me when you are away hunting. Wear my favour, please, so that the Maiden will protect you. I will give it to you on the morrow."

Ser Andar eyed Clegane nervously but in the end, his gallantry won.

"With the greatest pleasure, Mylady. I do count the days until we are united." He kissed her hand and let her go with Clegane, doubtfully.

They made their way around the battlements in silence at first but she could almost hear him brooding next to her...soon, he would say something mean to catch her off guard and hurt her, to pay her back… She wondered when exactly she had been summoned. Maybe he had looked for them on the battlements, heard them come closer talking of love and knights and other sweet things that surely turned his stomach and then stayed in the shadows, unnoticed, to overhear more. She felt ashamed and also concerned. He would probably tell Joffrey and Joffrey loved the young Royce little. There was only so much jealousy that would help her. If Clegane sung about the almost-kiss, Joffrey would surely be mad with rage. _Damn him. Why is he always there to witness my shame?_ She was about to summon the courage to ask him to keep quiet about it when he started to talk.

"Think the prince will let you go with your shining knight?" he laughed, so joyless that she felt a stab of sadness in her stomach.

"Your fine uncle will not live long enough to see your seventeenth nameday, that is plain to you, isn't it, sly little swan? And then, your 'cousin' will have you, once, twice, who knows maybe you survive it more often than that. He will lose interest in you and the Gods know what he will do to you when you can no longer bewitch him. When your words have no power anymore."

He stood now, in the shadow of the outer curtain wall, and looked down upon her.

"Clever of you to get yourself a valiant knight for your rescue. But you back the wrong horse, pretty swan. Your bloody _Ser_ cannot get you out of here, he might weep himself to sleep every night, but he can't help you. A fine pansy you got there, a pretty lad." Mockery dripped from his voice but Aliena detected something else. _He is jealous._

"Are you suggesting that you would rescue me like the shining knight you are not if I showed myself grateful?"

She thought that for the tiniest of moment, something flashed up in his eyes, but it was gone soon enough and left only contempt.

"I thought you were a swan? I thought you would "spread your wings and fly"?" He cited her, mockingly. _He still remembers that moment in Winterfell._ So did she. It was almost half a year ago and so much had happened since then.

"You said, one day, only a dog would stand between me and a lion's claws." She could see that the precision with which she quoted him caught him off guard.

"Might have said that, don't bloody remember. I was probably drunk." A feeble lie. She came closer to him, and she saw the way he put on his guard, vigilantly.

She touched his arm, softly. Her heart ran riot in her chest when her body reacted to his presence as it always did. She knew she had a problem but she preferred it at the back of her mind.

"I remember." Her fingers brushed over his forearm, softly. A promise.

"Bitch." He uttered, scornfully. "You think you play your bloody games with me, like you do with the prince? With that fine pansy? With your uncles, the Hands, the queen? You think I am just as susceptible to your _charm_? Bugger that. You're a lying bitch, a whore. Stay away from me." He pushed her away and she almost fell.

"No one calls me a whore." red rage rose in her, how dared he. She was a virgin, no one had ever touched her…

"Not to your face maybe." His mockery took her breath away. She had no reply and to her anger, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She blinked them away.

"I will find my way to the queen's chambers alone." _Aye, and I will blame you when she asks me why I am late._

He staggered away. _Damn him. Gods, give him the punishment he deserves._ He would have to hunt with Joffrey for a fortnight. Not punishment enough, but a start. She thought, smiling.

She reached the Holdfast, finally, flushed and out of breath. The queen would be annoyed.

"Your Grace, please forgive me, I am late, I know. Sandor Clegane came to fetch me just now." her breathing was heavy.

Cersei was indeed not pleased at all. "What did he do all the time? I sent him away about an hour ago.- Well, it matters not. Ned Stark has risen from his bed and already took up his duty again. Robert stays adamant, Ned Stark will not be punished for his crimes against my family."

Aliena saw the bruise on her beautiful face. By now the red had turned to a vivid blueish purple and it was swollen. She thanked the Gods that the Kingslayer was not present, he would have attacked Robert and disturbed the peace even more.

"My queen, your time will come soon. Lord Stark is weakened, both physically and in his position. He has no friends here and he is a man who always makes the wrong choices, bound by what he calls honour and loyalty. We will see his demise soon enough. Important now is that we do not warn him. No more strikes against his men, it will make even him wary and once he left for Winterfell, you will no longer be able to control him. Stannis and Stark are strong enemies by themselves...united, it would be unthinkable."

Cersei looked at her, apprehensively.

"You know it." It was no question. _I should not have mentioned Stannis._

"Yes. There is no fair Baratheon in the history of our House. But Joff is my cousin, and I am loyal to him. Family is not only blood. The imp is your blood, and yet, would you consider _him_ family? You are not my blood, yet, you are more family to me than Renly or Stannis."

"Indeed. You have spoken well. It seems I can trust you, yet, should word reach out after Robert's death which is, as you said yourself, inevitable...you would be considered the heir to the throne by some."

"Treason. Joffrey is Robert's heir, has the king not made that plain? I am his niece and Joff is his heir."

"If it came to accusations-"

"I would marry Joffrey and legitimise his claim even more. I know him, I know his cruelty and his love for torture and death. But he has always been protective and kind. We have a bond, stronger than blood."

Cersei seemed to weigh her options. Finally, she saw sense:

"Indeed, you do… I will make certain that you can stay. And you will get that Keep you want so badly, once Robert's brothers have shown their true colours."

 _Cersei had always been cleverer than Robert. She will buy me with a castle, not a husband._

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"Go now, Aliena." The queen looked her in the eye. "You have more of me in you than of your own blood."

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"I will call for you again, soon. These are troublesome days. Next time, come immediately. A queen does not wait."

"I will tell Clegane. Good night, aunt." Aliena rarely called her that but it did not hurt to remind her.

In her rooms, Varys waited for her. As if she needed another troubling meeting today.

"I heard you told the queen that you know her sweet secret?" The soft plump woman that sat in the chair by the hearth chimed after Aliena closed the door.

"It was an accident."

"It would be good if it stayed the only accident. It would not do us well if our good queen knew all too much." His voice was a sweet whip.

"Spare me your warnings. It was well-received. She trusts me entirely. The important question is: How do we protect Ned Stark once Robert is dead? He will make the wrong choices, listen to the wrong counsellors. Yet, to keep the peace for just a little longer, we must keep him safe."

"You have sung your song to your sweet aunt, I take it?"

"My sweet aunt is not the one I worry about. It is our charming prince. He will want Ned Stark hung, drawn and quartered at least."

"You must sing to him, too, then."

"I can try to paint the Night's Watch as an equally gruesome fate….But the boy loves blood and loves to see a man's life end by his hand."

"Sing sweeter, then." _Easy to say for you, spider._

"What do we do should I fail?" It was hard to say those words, Aliena had never failed at this before. Yet, Joffrey was a tough challenge.

"Why, there will be war."

"And the realm will bleed." There was frustration in Aliena's voice. "We will need uneasy alliances for a temporary peace."

"Indeed. But we will all pray for our Lord Hand, won't we?" Varys left her alone, her grave thoughts her only companion.

Her uncle would most certainly die on the hunt he looked forward to so much. She would say her final farewell to him on the morrow. It was only a matter of time till Ned Stark found out, he had the book and the bastards. Not even he could take forever with the evidence right in front of him. He would go to the queen and allow her and her children to leave in peace. His honour and kindness would kill both the king and most probably himself as well. _If Robert had only chosen a Hand with less honour and more common sense._ But it was all the same. Ned Stark would die or take the black, Sansa and Arya would stay, hostages to the crown that would by then sit on Joffrey's golden curls. Aliena stretched out. No, this was like fighting against a many headed beast, every time she took a head off, three new ones grew in that place. It was getting out of hand.

 _I am Aliena Stormdaughter, A Swann and a Baratheon. I fight. I protect what is mine. And I will prevail._

With the prince gone, she would have time to go to Flea Bottom, show herself, be kind and generous. She needed the people of King's Landing and they needed her. She had not been in a while. By now, Merra would have her youngest child, maybe Steff was already a blacksmith, no longer only an apprentice. She would bring them food and coin and sweet words to take their minds off their work.

It had been Alyssa Baratheon who had taught her the importance of the smallfolk. Cersei paid them no heed, neither did Joffrey or the King. But she did and they loved her for it. One day, it would pay off for her as much as it did for them.


	16. Chapter 16

I just wrote this down today, it might still need a bit of editing here and there. I did proof-read but with these long chapters, I just need some distance to see all the mistakes that sneaked in.

Thank you for all your kind reviews!

AnImEfAN506: I must admit that I have a three page concept paper for this story and I try to stay to the original as close as possible. I therefore fear I have to disappoint you, Joffrey will die when he dies in the books, just like Sandor. (I do support the gravedigger theory, though)

Thank you for your good advice, you were right, I reread the later chapters and I feel better again!

Thank you all for the kind reviews! As always, please let me know what you think. I am also very happy to receive constructive criticism!

King's Landing, the next day

Sandor

The hunting party left early the next morning, the sun had not yet risen and world was coloured in shades of grey. Sandor liked this time of the day, the crispness of the air and the dreariness of the mist. He had never been more eager to leave the capital. He would have gone to Essos, just to escape _her_. He had barely slept, his mind had kept him awake, no matter how hard he tried to forget her. The queen had sent him to find and fetch her, had hoped that the sight of the Prince's dog would remind that Royce of her words. He had heard them before he saw them and stayed in the shadows like a _spy_. It had been despicable. She had talked to the Royce in a way she had never talked to him. All sweet smiles she had been and oh so kind. Sandor could have retched up.

Then he had asked again. In words, so hollow and sickeningly mellow. This time though, she had accepted and his stomach had turned. She wanted the _knight_ from the Vale. Something had run riot in him, he remembered his heart, pounding fast and forcefully in his chest, a bad taste had been on his tongue, like bile. Most of all, he remembered the fury, the anger that had risen in him like red hot molten rock when his face came closer to hers, and she did not back away. He should have stayed silent and walked back to the queen to tell her, Cersei would have taken care of it. But he could not have let it happen. The rage had not ebbed away and when he remembered what he had said to her, he flinched. "Whore." Her face had been like shattering stone, he had seen tears in her eyes and all he had wanted was to ask her forgiveness, touch her, make her smile. But it was no good. She was a fair lady, he was the beast. The knight got the maiden in the tales, not the monster. So he had just let her go on her own, proved a second time that he was not even fit to protect her. Cursing and with a mood as black as death he had staggered to his sleeping cell with wine to drink himself into oblivion. It had not worked, yet here he stood by his horse, sullen and with a throbbing head. A white figure made its way over to the bailey from Maegor's Holdfast. _Well thank the bloody Gods, just what I needed._

"Your Grace, I have come to bid you farewell." The King turned around and Sandor saw the relief and joy plain on his fat face.

"Aliena!" He hurried towards her. "We shall talk when I am back. I might have been too - well, anyway. Farewell." He kissed the girl on the forehead. She smiled.

"Thank you, _uncle_. I hope you find your white hart." Then, the girl walked over to Ser Andar.

"Good Ser, I have brought you my favour to wear for this hunt." She pulled out a kerchief of white silk, embroidered with silver swans. _Oh so pure, are you? If your knight really knew you, he would not go near you anymore._

Sandor expected Joffrey to be furious but the boy grinned, smugly. _Which song has she sung for him now?_

"Thank you, Mylady. My thoughts will never leave you albeit my body must." The knight's words were enough to make Sandor's stomach turn again. Disgusting.

The girl kissed him on the cheek in front of the whole hunting party, whispers filled the misty morning air. She had proven her uncle her devotion and goodwill. That was what this was about. She did not want the knight. The heavy weight was lifted off his stomach. _That's why the boy seems so complacent._

Aliena walked over to the prince in her swan white gown. She walked past him but did not so much as look at him. _Fine, I deserve that._ When Joffrey reached out for her hand, he noticed a length of black silk with golden embroidery on his wrist. Stags and swans. _Why, aren't you clever, little swan._ Contempt rose in him and something else, that made him loathe himself almost as much as her.

"My prince, I bid you farewell. Bring the white hart home for your Lady Sansa." A sweet smile, a chaste kiss on the cheek as well.

 _All smiles and kisses this morning, are you?_ He remembered the sensation of her soft lips on his scarred skin, against his will. Sandor longed for the departure almost as much as he longed for - . _Once I have thrust my spear into something, I will feel better. It is the lack of exercise that makes strong men go weak in this bloody city._

Yet, when they all sat their horses, he felt a strange sensation in his chest. They would be gone for at least a fortnight. A fortnight without her face, her voice, the sound of her laughter...He looked back over his shoulder unconsciously, back to her, standing in the bailey alone, a speck of white in the brown and grey. Their eyes met. But there was no warmth in hers. She held his gaze for a moment and then looked away, as if he was no one of importance. Sandor turned back around in his saddle, his gaze fixed on the boy's red and golden cloak in front of him. A fine stag to pierce with a spear, a swan to shoot with an arrow. That would lift his mind off _this_.

Aliena, King's Landing

The departure of the hunting party left her feeling oddly empty. There was no one now to keep her occupied, but Sansa and the queen. Cersei was in a horribly foul mood and Sansa was full of ancient tales about knights and princesses. She held Joff for Aemon the Dragonknight. Aliena would have snorted out with laughter had it not been so sad. Sooner or later, Sansa would learn the truth and she would look back and wonder how she could have been so blinded. So, Aliena spent most of her days in the maester's library or with her filly in the stables. It was dull and tiring most of the time. Sometimes though, she went down to flea bottom, coming back with her hem three inches deep in mud and her hair tangled and loose. Those were the best days, seeing the children growing strong, the mothers smile, the fathers go to one knee and thank her for her kindness. She never took the food they offered, they hardly had enough, but sometimes she had a cup of ale with them in the evening and danced and sung until they accompanied her back to the gate of the Red Keep. Those nights made her feel alive again, dancing wildly and singing loudly not following steps, and notes and rules.

Another thing that lightened up her mood was seeing Ned Stark hold court. He was not too bad, too stiff and rigid surely, but not a disaster. It all went quite well until a few knights and a motley group of smallfolk entered the Great Hall. Aliena smelled trouble as they walked in.

The Hound's brother had raided and raped and killed again. No one was certain, there was a shadow of a doubt in the air even when Ned Stark passed the sentence. But Aliena saw Tywin Lannister's hadnwriting all over this. His son had been abducted by a Tully of Riverrun and now they would pay their debts.

Ned Stark was a fool to sent Dondarrion, a good man for a tourney but no match for the Mountain in a true fight. A hundred men would not help him either. The honourable Lord Eddard meant to sentence Gregor to death but he has condemned his royal brigade just the same.

He _will not like that at all. His brother is his to hate and his to kill. He has dreamt of his brother's death more than a thousand times, surely, but not once had it been Ned Stark that killed him._ This meant trouble. The Hound had a horrible temper and if he found out that his brother had been impaled on a sword that was not his, the Gods themselves could not save the poor man that had carried out Ned Stark's sentence. The Lord Hand had the courage of a fool, truly. She saw Varys' eyes wander over her in the crowd. He showed no sign of recognition but they both knew that Ned Stark had shortened his own life yet again with his honour and righteousness. And other lives, too. She sighed. Robert should have left him in the North, the South was no place for a rigid backbone, it would shatter and the shards might kill many a man… and woman too.

Aliena's chambers, later

"Mylady." the girl had just closed her door when the soft voice rang through the silence. _Soon enough, it will be his voice that announces the evening and not the nightingale._

"Good Lord, what can I do for you this night?"

"Surely I have not misread your expression today in the Great Hall?"

"And neither have I misread yours. Lord Stark has to be stopped this time. Killing Gregor Clegane, a knight so loyal to Tywin, will do neither of us any good."

"Yet, Our good Lord Hand is adamant. I fear other preparations are in order."

"So what is my chore this time?"

"The younger brother." It took Aliena a moment. Then…

"You want me to charm the Hound? Just as well could I try to bewitch the statue of the Stranger, and my chances of dying are far smaller then." Yet, it thrilled her. She could do it openly, as openly as she dared.

"I wonder what it is that blinds you so, good lady. Reach out and pick the fruit. It is right in front of your face. Every beast has a longing for a maiden fair."

Varys looked at her.

"And some maidens for beasts, too." There was the smallest of smiles playing on his lips.

 _Does he know or does he suspect?_

"Make him forget his brother, good lady. Make him forget his loyalties. Do you doubt your abilities?"

 _In other words, if I cannot do it, he will find someone who can._ Aliena thought about their past, objectively. He desired her, fair enough. But it was one thing to desire someone and another entirely to feel deeply for someone. She knew that herself. Yet, Varys had the right of it. Someone must stop the Hound from going mad and from taking the prince and his mother with him in his rage. The fragile peace in the capital must be kept, under all circumstances.

"I do not. I will do my best to refrain him from doing our good Lord Eddard any harm."

"I will sleep better knowing that our fate lies in your soft hands, good lady."

The eunuch turned to the door, in the guise of a plump handmaiden this time.

"Your valiant prince will return on the morrow, with him your shining knight….and your dog. Our good king stays to hunt down a gigantic boar. What a metaphor indeed. He has always loved the risk, our good Robert, it seems only fitting…"

His words trailed off and left Aliena with a bitter taste on her tongue. Her uncle would die soon and she would be left with Joffrey as her king. Would she be able to make Sandor Clegane listen to her? And if she managed to capture his attention, would he protect her from Joff, as he once claimed, drunkenly?

She needed to sleep now. There were many ways to a man's heart, one was surely through the eyes. She loved the thrill of the chase like every other man. Her prey was just far less complicated.

Sandor, the next morning

As they rose through the gate, Sandor tried not to search for her in the waiting crowd, but to no avail. She stood in the first row, clad in silver silk and black velvet, her face a mask of joy and relief. _She is happy to have her knight again? Or her prince?_ Sandor thought, bitterly. He had taken from the Vale man what he could, without being too obvious in his hatred. The boy had commanded him to, anyway. Once, the knight had gone to the floor and had to sit his horse encrusted with mud until the day ended. The prince had made jokes about him and although they were not the slightest bit humorous, he had joined in the collective laughter.

No they were back, though, and the sight of her alone sufficed to set free an odd mixture of feelings. He loathed her, as he had done for the past years, he despised her….yet, the sight of her made his insides turn in an almost pleasurable way and he had to force himself to look away.

 _It is over. Whatever there was, I have overcome it. She is nothing to me._ He had tried to hammer these words into his mind, and it had worked. He stopped thinking about her. His unconscious was not that easy to manipulate though, and his dreams had been disturbing, to say the least.

They reached the middle of the bailey, the prince, clad in gold and red, was the centre of attention. His cousin walked over to the Royces, casually chatting about the hunt with father and the two sons. _They all approve of her. She has convinced even the old Royce._ Would she really stay? Or, maybe, if the king survived the hun, he would sent her away. Sandor's chest tightened. Then he looked away, to the prince who just climbed down his horse.

"Cousin!"

Silent as a shadow had the girl made her way over to them, she stood next to him, Sandor looked down at her but she had eyes for her prince only.

"Have you not brought the hart?" she asked, as she allowed the boy to pull her into an embrace and kiss her upon the cheek.

"Some wolves were at it first." the boy was still not pleased. "You should have come to me directly, not to him first. I am your prince."

"oh, my sweet prince, but you are the one i will stay with." A sweet smile and the boy was appeased.

"Have you missed me, sweet lady?" he asked now, his hands still around her.

"I have. I have missed you a lot." she smiled and then she looked up to Sandor. Her eyes were soft.

"Have you killed a beast, Hound?"

"I killed a stag and shot a few birds down from their high position." His helmet covered most of his face but he put on an expression of scorn, just for her..

"No beast then. Well, perchance the kingswood is empty and all the beasts are here." She smiled, a dangerous one this time. _What is she up to now?_

"I will go to my mother now, Dog, see that those fools do not underfeed my horse again, it was painfully slow." _It was slow because you're the worst rider that damned creature had the ill luck to be ridden by._ Sandor's gaze fell on the girl. _Aye, she might share that ill luck soon enough._ He decided to ignore the uneasy feeling that came with the thought. _She made her bed, now she should lie in it._ A bed she might share with Joffrey…

Sandor walked over to the stables. He had to care for Stranger himself, no one else could, but he did not mind. A moment fewer in her presence. He heard them walk away, the prince and his laughing party, her with them, no doubt. Sandor took his helmet off and it dropped to the floor with a clunk.

As he took the saddle off the horse and wiped it dry, he heard steps behind him, steps in slippers not in boots. It was dark in the stables, even during the day, but he knew it was her before he could even see her.

"You are the only one who cares for his horse himself." her voice was soft as a feather, caressing and lovely.

"He lets no one else touch him." He said, brusquely, as he hoped. Then he turned his back to her but she stood next to him soon enough, at Stranger's head. Her odour hit him hard, his unconscious remembered it well and all those moments where she had been close enough to smell her.

"Maybe he is just scared to let others come close to him. Maybe he has been hurt." Her voice no had a certain sharpness.

 _What is she even implying?!_

"Bloody nonsense. He is headstrong and he needs no one else."

"We all do." She hummed something, a melody he recognized. The sad myrish song that she had found so fitting and humourous. The horse's ears twitched, Sandor found its gaze fixed on her smile. a sweet one, of course. Even his bloody horse got a smile from her.

Slowly but decidedly, she put out her hand, she was mere inches away from Stranger's forehead, then her pale fingers touched the night black fur. The horse flinched away a little, but her hand stayed. She still hummed and then let her hand sink, slowly.

"I told you, he likes being touched when he knows that no harm will come to him." She looked up to him, almost grinned.

"What do you want?" Sandor was more than confused, and he was angry as well. He had managed full well to shut her out yet, here she was again, all suggestive smiles again and hints and jokes that he did not share.

"I wanted to look after Syrax." She nodded to the side, where her white horse stood a little down the passageway. "Also, the queen has called for you. But I took my time, just like you did."

 _She knows I listened to the whole fucking conversation like a bloody coward in the shadows._ He could have hit himself, or even better, her.

"Shall we go then?" She put a hand on his mailed forearm. He felt her warm fingers through mail and linen. _The Gods be damned and you, too._ Sandor shook her hand off and stormed out of the stables, the little swan on his heels.

"You are late, both of you." The queen's sharp tone was a herald of her mood.

"It is my fault, Your Grace. It took me forever to find him." the girl curtsied and took her spot by the prince's side. Sandor knew something was amiss.

"Clegane, Some villagers claim they have seen your brother, Gregor, raiding and raping and killing.

Our good Lord Hand has decided to believe some dirty peasants more than my own father and sent out a troop to bring your noble brother to justice."

Heat rose in him, his vision blurred. That ice cold bastard had sent out men to kill _him_?! _Gregor is_ mine _, since the age of 6 I dream of his death. And never has it been anyone else but_ me _who swings the sword. He will take his words back, or I will take his life, and those of his fine daughters, too._ He could not even form a proper sentence.

"I will teach Ned Stark something about _family_." Sandor was already on his way out when Aliena stepped into his path.

"But good _Ser_ , surely you must see the folly in this plan? You do not even know whom he sent out after the Mountain that Rides. Lord Beric Dondarrion, Ser Gladden Wylde, Lord Lothar Mallery and that great fool, Thoros of Myr." _The madman with the flaming sword._

"They have a hundred men, if at all. They will not even scratch your brother and he will shorten _them_ all by a head. We all know how deeply you care for your brother's well-being…" There was mockery in her voice now, evidently. _How does she dare._ For a moment, he forgot about Ned Stark, he forgot about all the others. He wanted to slap her but he could not bring himself to harm her. _Pansy._ But she was not done yet.

"That is of course, unless your brother fears fire? That madman, Thoros wields a flaming sword and maybe your own … accident _in battle_ left a lasting impression on our good Ser Gregor. Does your brother fear fire, _Ser_?"

Joffrey sniggered behind her, even the queen wore a faint smile. The spider, fat and plump put a hand in front of his face to conceal his laughter.

"I am no _knight_." he rasped, his insides were still burning but it was her he loathed at the moment. She was right, the pitiable motley brigade Ned Stark had sent out would not come close. Tywin would protect his favourite pet monster as well. Yet, it was not Stark's bloody right to even attempt to take his revenge from him, a revenge he had waited for for twenty years. And it was not her bloody right to stand here and _mock_ him publicly. Use it against him what he had told her, all those years ago.

He spat at her feet and then left the room, angry beyond measure with the world but with her in particular.

Aliena, later that day

"You provoked him."

Aliena sat in her chamber, wrote down some verses in Valyrian, when Varys came in, disguised as an ugly serving boy this time.

"You are so clever to point out the evident." She said, in her sweetest voice.

"Very perceptive of you. I must admit I had almost given up on you and your cause. Affection is a sweet indulgence, I am sure, but it might prove a double edged sword."

His tone was casual but his eyes looked at her directly and with no softness.

"Affection? For whom? I have buried my own blood before he is even dead. My heart has run dry like the deserts of Dorne. You can give up on me all you like. A swan does not need a spider." she smiled and he returned the smile.

"Then, why did you confuse the poor man so badly? Surely he has faced enough horror.

Half a dozen almost-kisses, a sweet touch here a cold word there. The man has no idea what to believe, what to wish for. he wants you dead and he wants you in your bed." He spoke in a pleasant tone but she knew he wanted to show her he knew everything, and that he would judge her worth by her reply.

 _In his bed, I know. But I want him to want me with his head as well not only with his … member. The truth is, I control him not half as well as you apparently think. I can only make him hate me, not love me._

She had it all planned out, a cover up, after she had found herself acting strangely. It was just a phase, surely, but she needed to hide it all the same. Feelings were a weakness she could not afford. Not even Varys could know who she really was, what she longed for. He might serve the realm but he would never serve her. Here, a person with wishes was a fish on the hook.

Aliena gave him a measuring look, as if she was not certain whether to let him in on her secret. Then:

"Should it come to the worst...should I find myself with a crown on my head and Joffrey between my legs, I will need an Aemon, a Dragonknight. Just that I intend to write a more successful tale for me than the good Naerys had."

 _A sweet lie, spider. No one will ever know me, not you, not_ him _, no one. The price I have to pay._ It was a sad thought and a satisfying one as well.

"Oh, hopefully, I always found their sad tale so dreadful." Varys waved with a flabby, dirt-stained hand.

"Well, Mylady, I see you have taken the necessary precautions. How do you fare with your other burden, speaking of it?"

"My other burden still loves me well and I have sung dreadful songs about the scum at the Wall...we will see, I still fear that my dearest cousin's great appetite for blood will shorten Lord Eddard's life significantly."

"Well, he seems desperate to achieve that himself. Right now, he is with our good queen, in the Godswood so that the Gods can see the truth. And my birds as well."

"He wants to be merciful. For the children. My uncle will die very soon then. The Gods damn Lord Stark, the Old ones and the New and every other God I know. Damn the man who has more mercy and honour than sense. In his darkest hour, he will see how his mercy killed his friend and thousands more."

Ned Stark's words were supposed to be milk of the poppy for the queen but Cersei had turned it into deadly poison for her husband. _And kill him it will, all the same._ Intentions do not count in this world, Aliena mused. Only the consequences.

"I hope you have readied your mourning gowns, sweet lady. I have the strange feeling that you will need them for a while." And the eunuch left her with nothing but the rank stench of the costume he was wearing.


	17. Chapter 17

Hey! This was quite an emotional chapter to write...I did shed a little tear.

In the second half of this, you will find I have borrowed (rather heavily) from Anne Boleyn. She kind of is (or became) my inspiration for Aliena and I see a lot of Henry in Joffrey (although I think Henry was not so cruel, he was certainly egoistical and ruthless).

The next chapter is going to be intense Sandor/ Aliena again, I cannot keep my fingers off that, in the truest sense of the phrase.

I tried to write it all according to the course of events in the book but there is a lot going on, so if you notice I got something wrong, please tell me and I will correct it.

And, again, this is a Sandor/ OC story, not a Joffrey romance. So I will finally go back to that next chapter. Yay.

Tell me what you think, seriously. I would be very thankful for some opinions, critical ones as well, to help me improve!

Thank you!

* * *

King's Landing, later that night

Aliena

"Mylady! His Grace has returned. You need to wake up." Aliena's eyes flew open. _He is still alive._

"I am awake, Kenna. Is he in his rooms? Be so kind and fetch me my bedrobe, please, it is getting colder with every passing night." _Alive, alive, alive._

The maidservant saw her relief and took her arm, sympathetically.

"Your uncle has been hurt, Mylady. A boar, they say. It opened him from the hip to the collarbone."

The smile froze on her face. _No._ She could not fight the tears although she had known it would happen. It was too cruel. The relief followed by such grief. But she was a swan and a stag, she would keep her head up. Aliena smiled, a sad smile.

"It is good you told me. I still need to go and pay my respects."

Dressed in her red velvet bedrobe and soft slippers, she ran through the corridors of Maegor's Holdfast to her uncle's chambers. The door was ajar.

Robert lay on the bed, covered by blankets, but a quick glance sufficed Aliena. Her uncle would not survive the next day. His face was as pale as maggots and just as puffy. His brow was slick with sweat but he shivered under the warm covers. Servants poked the fire in the twin hearths and soon, the warmth in the chamber would become unbearable. Her uncle was a dying man.

Her uncle Renly paced up and down restlessly on one side of the bed, Barristan Selmy stood by the door, his face grim and oddly sad. Aliena threw herself on the empty side of the massive bed, she felt tears rolling down her cheeks again, tasted their salt on her lips.

This man was her only family. Renly cared for her as well but he was vain and cocky and callow. Stannis was too cold and stern to offer her warmth and comfort. Only Robert had. He was a whoring, drinking, lazy fool but he loved her and whatever he did, he had always wanted the best for her. She was his little girl.

The king's smile was heartbreaking, filled with a wistfulness she had never seen on his broad face.

"My sweetest Aliena. My only … You were right. You were so right." He tried to lift one of his arms from under the covers but Aliena laid her palm on the blanket.

"Rest, uncle. You will need your strength." She knew it was too late, yet the words came out, more wish than belief, and filled with pain.

"For what?" Robert's attempted to laugh but stopped. "No, child, I know the truth. It is no kindness to lie to me-"

"You are strong, the maesters say that it is the will to live-"

"Bugger the maesters. You know I will die and so do I. We have only a few moments before my darling wife comes and I mean to uses these moments."

Aliena nodded, weakly. She tried to stop the tears but they would just keep coming.

"You are the only thing I leave behind that I am proud of. Pitiful enough, for a king, but it's the truth. You are good and kind, just, clever, brave and strong. You are everything I wanted my sons to be like. You are the last true Baratheon heir. Renly and I have decided. Storm's End will not go to Tommen or Myrcella or Stannis' whelp. You will have it. For what you have become. You are the heir I can be proud of. My own heir is rotten to the core and he wants you, in a sickening way. Stay away from him. From _them_. Go with Renly, do not stay here. They will marry you to Joffrey and you have deserved so much better. Go with Renly-" Robert coughed up a ball of blood and phlegm. "Go with him. Storm's End was always your home just like it was Alyssa's. No man will ever change that. You are the blood of old Stormkings and you have more of them than any of mine own children." _That is because they are not your children._ It hurt her gravely to let him go in the belief that his seed made a creature like Joffrey. But the alternative was even worse, so she stayed silent with a heavy heart.

"Promise me, you will go to Storm's End. Do not stay for the-" He coughed again. "for the funeral. Leave, as soon as possible. They will hold you in their claws. Leave, promise me that. Go to Storm's End. Be a good ruler, be everything I have not been. Promise me, give a dying man a reason to smile." He already did, a sad smile and for a moment, Aliena thought she saw tears welling up in her eyes.

"I- I promise." She would go to Storm's End, eventually. But the game was something neither of her uncles had ever really understood. She needed to be on the board.

"Uncle, I am so sorry...forgive me-"

"Shht. Nothing to forgive. I should ask you for forgiveness, but there is more to forgive than we have time - Anyway, I will hear no more troubling things. A dying man can surely demand more cheerful topics on his deathbed." His laughter was a painful sound indeed. Aliena sat next to him, one hand on his arm, still covered by blankets, the other hand pushed the strands of wet hair out of his face.

"You look just like your mother, so beautiful. She was always the best of us." Now, definitely, his eyes watered.

"It's the smoke." Her uncle said, even on his deathbed he could not show weakness.

"Hey, you fools, I do not want to be smoked like a fucking bacon before I'm even dead!" he shouted over to the servants who, in turned, hurried and bustled. Robert sniggered.

"Always the best, your mother. I wish you could have known her better. She told me not to marry Cersei. She had the right of it, from the beginning. "Beauty and Gold will still leave you empty and cold." That's what she said. I look forward to seeing her. In one of the heavens she is, surely. Aye, I'll get there at some point, surely. Should have prayed more and whored less, maybe." He grinned, his mouth twisting in pain.

"Aye, she said that, too. Wise, just like you." Robert turned his arm under the blanket, palm facing upwards. Aliena laid hers on his.

" I will tell her that her daughter is everything she could have wished for and more."

Aliena wanted to say something, anything, but she had a lump in her throat, she attempted to reply but no words came out, only tears. Her uncle understood though, she felt his hand closing around hers, the covers between their skin.

"Why have I been informed so late?!" Cersei's voice was loud and clamouring. "My love, how do you feel?" The queen entered, even now clothed in red and gold from head to toe. She took a seat on the other side of the bed. Her gaze brushed over Aliena's hand that her uncle had released upon Cersei's entry.

"How good of you to come and see your uncle, Aliena. Joffrey will be here soon as well, my love." The last sentence was addressed at her husband.

"Good, I need to talk to my… son. He will be king soon."

"Do not say that, my love." Cersei managed to put pain and sadness into her words but Aliena knew the truth. _Murderer._

"How did it happen anyway?" she had a sweet voice, sweeter than her own. Softer.

"A boar. Gods, he was massive. He got me but I finished him. I want him roasted for my funeral."

Cersei smiled, thin-lipped.

"Surely no topic for your darling niece's ears." She gave Aliena a sympathetic smile.

"The girl knows the truth, she is not a blind fool. That boar ripped me wide open...yet I still finished him, tell 'em, Renly, I did."

"Indeed." Renly had stopped his restless pacing and stood. "Your entrails spilled out of your body and yet, you slew him."

"It would not be like you to let off an enemy just because you have one foot in the stranger's garden." Aliena had to smile beyond herself, her uncle was anything if not stubborn.

Robert tried to laugh again but pain soon told him to keep still. Maester Pycelle entered the chamber, he had been there before, apparently and had just collected some antidotes and ointments, and met the queen, no doubt.

"Do not laugh, Your Grace, I beseech you."

"Old fool. Soon enough I will never laugh again."

Cersei's face betrayed nothing. _I have learnt as much from her as I have from him, or from my own mother._ Yet, there was no love between them. Ned Stark entered the king's chambers soon enough and after that, they were all sent out. Aliena would go back and spent her uncle's last night with him. She would lift the burden off Cersei and catch two flies at once, Cersei would be thankful and her uncle relieved. She would leave the queen to the funeral preparations.

Joff was there at his father's bed who told him how he slew the boar. Then Maester Pycelle gave him a last dose of milk of the poppy. The king slept almost immediately. As they walked past each other at the door Joffrey whispered into her ear: "I am king now." It was not meant as a threat, it was meant as a lover's promise. Still, it sent a chill through Aliena's body and she soon recognized what it was. Fear. She looked up into grey eyes, cold and unyielding as steel. She had not seen him in the shadows of the chamber. Old tears still covered her cheeks and new ones already filler her eyes. The steel turned to soft grey mist but he did not even so much as nod as his huge shape squeezed past her. Aliena was alone now with her sleeping uncle, snoring on the huge canopy bed. She no longer fought the tears and soon enough, her face, her dress, the blankets where she sat were soaked. Silent tears, those were. A lady did not sob. She sat with her uncle all night and in the morning, Maester Pycelle woke her up as she had fallen asleep leaning against the bedpost.

"It will happen soon, Mylady. My sympathies for you. He was a great king indeed."

 _A great oaf, he was, a boar, but a great king? No. He was kind to me but his qualities lay elsewhere. He would have made a finer soldier._

"It is kind of you to say so. The realm might never see his like again, but our valiant prince will be a great king as well. Different, for sure, but just as great."

Pycelle was eager to show his loyalty. Somehow, Aliena felt sick. She needed to leave this stuffy room, this haven of tears and pain, Pycelle's grovelling demeanour…

"Forgive me, maester. I need to go and take a bath, change into more fitting garb. Keep watch until I return."

Aliena fled from her uncle's deathbed. But did it matter? He was sleeping and his dreams would be better than reality, of that she was sure. Maybe he was united with Lyanna, with her mother...whereever he would go, he would be freer there than he had ever been here. King's Landing had been a merry grave filled with pleasure and pastime but Aliena hoped that he would find more than just that where he would go now. She put on a black gown embroidered in golden thread, a dozen stags scattered over the bodice. A black lace snood for her hair, black velvet slippers for her feet. She walked back to her uncle's chambers with no haste.

The room smelled of incense but underneath the burning odour was the stench of death. Her empty stomach turned and reminded her of how hungry she was. Aliena almost chuckled. Her uncle's deathbed and all she thought about was food.

She had sitten by the king's side for only an hour when she noticed that his breathing had stopped. Suddenly, her tears stopped running down her cheeks. A lump of lead fell on her stomach, heavy as a horse. _He is no longer with me._ She had expected to feel sad. What she did not expect was the loneliness that hit her like a falling rock. Should she go with Renly? He was her only blood relation here and if he left her here….she would truly be alone among lions.

It was tempting, just going home, walking around the battlements, sitting in her mother's comfy chair in the library...riding her horse around the grounds, greeting the workers and women on the fields with a handful of coins and talk about the dreadful weather...It would be like the old days, she thought, only for a moment, the urge to go home was so strong, the longing for that feeling of security and comfort. Just that Storm's End alone was only a pile of stones. Her mother had been her comfort, her uncle her security. But Renly had changed and it would never be the way it had been.

 _There is no use in chasing after dreams and memories. I have to live in the present. I do not want Storm's End like this, as my uncle's heir in absence of a better one. I do not want to be the second in command until Renly dies. Here, I can forge my own destiny. In Storm's End, I would have to take what is given to me._ Her heart ached when she thought about it, staying here, all alone and unprotected. Yet, was she? A tiny part of her wondered whether _he_ would stay true to what he had said... _He is his dog, how can I expect him to protect me?_ Yet, he had, ever so often. But it was one thing to protect her from wolves and another entirely to protect her from a lion's fangs.

She was Joffrey's now. He would take her as his mistress and once he had done so, how long would she be able to keep him? Her only chance was to make him wait. She thought about granting him the right of the first night. He would like that, degrading her future husband- and there was the issue. A _husband_. A plan formed in her head...yes, maybe. Not a bad idea at all.

"Mylady? We need to give His Grace to the Silent Sisters now." Pycelle tugged on her arm slightly and Aliena felt as if his fingers left a mark.

"I have prayed for him, to all of the Seven. May the Father judge him justly and the Mother have Mercy on him." _Good last words and uncle would have found them hilarious._

Aliena curtsied to the maester and went back to her chambers. She needed to change into more fitting garb to hail the new king, black was not a fashionable colour today.

She walked over to Prince - no, King Joffrey's chambers. She entered silently and interrupted the new King and Cersei, sharing a flagon of wine on their beloved king's death. A shadow in the corner indicated _his_ presence as well. _Good_.

"All hail our gracious king, Joffrey of Houses Lannister and Baratheon, the First of this noble name."

Aliena smiled.

Joffrey grinned, quite unfitting mere moments after his father's death by his mother's hands…

"I am king now, Aliena. Do you know what that means? You are mine. Father can no longer say no."

"Do you plan on marrying me, Your Grace?" she asked, innocence in her voice.

Joff looked to his mother, insecure.

"I would but … well, I cannot. You are not of one of the Great Houses. I have to find a nobler bride to marry." _He is so insolent._

"So, I am not noble enough to be your bride? I tell you freely, my King, I am too noble to be your whore."

Joffrey grew angry quickly. "You dare to defy me? I am your King!"

"And if you were the Father himself, I have few enough virtues but I count my virginity amongst them. How can I demand of you to treat me with respect after you have taken that from me? How can I when I cannot even respect myself anymore? No, Your Grace, I will gladly give you everything you desire, but that I cannot give you. Not unless the Seven have blessed our union."

Joffrey's head had turned an alarming shade of red.

"Mother. Do you hear her? She is mad."

"I do. And she has the right of it. You would take everything away from her, a woman without virginity, a woman touched and possessed by the king...which other man would ever deem himself worthy to follow you?" _You are doing well, Cersei._ The queen was clever. She saw what she could win with Aliena.

"Well, the man I command to. I am their KING!"

"I have noticed. Yet, Your Grace would sent me away, to a husband that grudgingly took me for his King commanded him to? Truly, we swore each other love. You are king now, but you have been more kingly before. I beg your leave." A single tear ran down her cheek. Joffrey hated weakness but he loved a display of devotion.

"It is true. We have shared a bond for a long time. I desire no other. You deny me what is mine."

"It is not yours, Your Grace. I swear, my mind is yours, my heart is yours, my soul is yours. But I cannot give you my body. And if you truly love me, truly care, you would never dishonour me like that."

Aliena stayed adamant.

"I am the King, I am your lord. And you tell me what I can do? I call that _treason_."

"My king, command me to give myself up to you and I will. You would dishonour me and shame me greatly and yourself as well. But if that is your wish, it shall be granted."

"I could. Right now." Joffrey's mouth twisted in an ugly pout.

"Yes." Aliena's voice had lost all her warmth, her eyes fixed him cooly.

Joff had only admired to people. His father, and his cousin. He wanted their praise and acknowledgement, he craved their affection. This had not changed. If there was a chance to get what he wanted and make her happy at the same time…

"There is way, Your Grace." Her voice cut through the uncomfortable silence the four of them shared, Cersei appraising on her chair, Joffrey angry and petulant standing in front of her, Aliena in her curtsy and Sandor Clegane in his armour in the corner, his thoughts shielded by his ugly helmet. _I would give a dragon for his thoughts._

"Tell me." Hope in his voice but also coolness.

"You will marry, a respectable lady from a Great House. Then, I will. A man that will go home to his keep and leave me here as your wife's lady-in-waiting, just as I am the queen's lady now. Then, you can make me your mistress, I will be your _only_ mistress. In secret. Your children will be my husband's. No stain will be upon my honour."

"I will retain the right of the first night." _If you must, it will never come to this anyway._

"Joff…" Cersei started, but Aliena nodded.

"As my king wishes."

"It will still take a while until I can marry."

"Not so long. You have waited for a year now, what is another? I will be here, with you. My honour, my well-being should be worth it to you." She rose, and stood in front of him, close enough so that he could smell the perfume on her neck, feel the heat of her body.

"Is it, cousin?" she looked him in the eye, her gaze a promise, her fingers on his, the softest touch.

"It is." He kissed her, brotherly on the cheek and then gallantly on the hand.

"Come now, dog. I need to go and hold court."

The boy and the man strode off, gold and red next to soot grey.

Cersei stood up and walked over to Aliena.

"That was very good."

"You must think me insolent. I have seen Robert with his whores, all these women, so wanton and _common_. I swore, I will never be one of them. But Joffrey is my king now,and more than that, to tell the truth. I have accepted by now that I can never be his wife. Why, then at least, I want to be his only mistress. Kings take a wife for duty and a mistress for love? Is it not so?"

Cersei smiled. "It is. And you make the queen's life a lot less easy." A malicious grin formed on her lips. "Sansa will have a hard time competing with you." She looked at Aliena's face for a long moment.

"I have raised you well. There is nothing of your uncle in you." _And thank the Gods, nothing of you either._ But an uneasy feeling remained. Was Cersei so wrong? Did she not just stand here, chatting with her uncle's murderer?

"May the Seven judge him justly." she replied, virtuously. _Not so justly, maybe._

"Very justly indeed." They shared a sweet smile and walked to the throne room together to attend court under King Joffrey, First of His Name. Robert's body was not yet cold. A fast moving world.


	18. Chapter 18

Hello again!

 **MissGraciel** , if you're still following this story, (and everyone else who found it hard to follow my serpentine dialogues from the early chapters) I have updated the first four chapters with improved dialogue scenes now, I hope I'll get round to improving the others this weekend.

This is a tough part to write, please let me know whether you feel I kind of lost Aliena as a character in this chapter, and over the course of the last 3.  
Also, do you think Sandor is still in character or do you feel I have made him grow too soft and soppy?

I am lacking professional distance, so please, let me know! I am thankful for every review, criticism and praise, they motivate me and they help me to improve my writing.

Thank you.

* * *

King's Landing, moments later

Aliena

Aliena stood with the queen and her two young children at the foot of the Iron Throne, behind a wall of soldiers and knights. Ned Stark walked in with his household guard, leaning on Littlefinger. _You back the wrong horse, Lord Eddard._ Aliena noticed his gaze around the hall, the relief plain on his face when he saw the gold cloaks under the tapestries. _The poor man. A sword at his throat will teach him the truth. How can a grown man be so trusting and naive?_ Aliena felt sorry for her uncle's friend, but he had acted more than foolishly, going to Cersei, offering her mercy, thereby killing his uncle. He trusted Littlefinger and now he and his men would pay for that fault. He was terribly slow to learn indeed and now it was too late for him.

Sansa had been taken to a room in the highest tower of the holdfast. A gentle prison.

Ned Stark looked over to them, standing on the raised platform next to the king's throne. Joffrey was clad in red satin with stags and lions embroidered on his cape in thread-of-gold. Tommen and Myrcella wore green and gold that went well with their crowns.

The queen wore a gown of seagreen flowing silk, myrish lace decorated it like foam on the waves. Aliena wore Lannister red and gold, as if, for this moment, they had swapped costumes. Not a hint of black was to be found in their apparel apart from a bit of black lace on Aliena's neckline and on her sleeves. Her only concession to mourning garb. The rest of her gown screamed Lannister, red velvet and cloth of gold, heavy embroidery in the shape of swans and stags and... _lions._ A gift from Joffrey and the queen.

 _He must notice that no one here wears mourning, that at least he must see._ But he did not seem to notice.

He gave Varys a scroll. Robert's will. Aliena saw the stamp under it, the royal stag in wax. Eddard Stark, Lord Protector of the Realm. Her uncle was a dreamer and a fool.

Cersei ripped the paper apart, to everyone's utter shock. And then, within moments the bloodshed began. _He_ was the first on their side that drew his sword. The sound of metal scratching against metal was blood curling.

Aliena stood with the royal family on the slightly raised platform. They were a quiet isle in the midst of the tumultuous sea, still like statues while the fighting around them culminated and then came to an end. Red and grey covered the tiles of the Great Hall, Aliena found herself surrounded by swirls of red and gold and white...and a speck of soot grey. When the fighting had stopped, Ned Stark stood, alone and somewhat fragile, the small Lord Baelish at his side, his own dagger at his pale throat and nothing in his eyes but disappointment.

 _A betrayed man. A man who lost everything he thought he had, within a moment. By the Gods, this is what King's Landing is like. One moment, you have everything and in the next, it vanishes into thin air and it turns out everything was an illusion._

Ned Stark never understood the importance of facades, illusion, pretence. But Aliena grew up here, she learnt that as other children learnt sewing, the great houses, the numbers. _He was made for a nobler world than this. Some say that the Northerners melt in the South. True is that they have never lasted long in the capital. Right here, where Eddard was betrayed now, his brother and his father died, only fifteen years ago. Does he think about that now?_

His face betrayed nothing, cold and still as ice it was. The queen at Aliena's side smiled, the tiniest of smiles it was, and yet, all her triumph lay in it. The bitterest of poisons for the defeated man. Joffrey's voice rang from the throne. shrill and high, a boyish voice not a king's baritone.

"Take this traitor to the black cells." The joy in his voice was so obvious that Aliena wanted to gag. Yet, she kept her smile, a hint of it only, and softened her gaze. Her pose screamt satisfaction and her insides were burning with shame. She had loved this so, in the old days. Now, it tore her apart. She had sided with the victorious party and yet, this did not feel like winning.

After Ned had left the Great Hall, dragged by soldiers, Joffrey commanded the guards to put the heads on spikes and display the bloodied Stark banner next to them.

Dipped in tar, the traitors' heads would sit upon their spikes, not even identifiable by those that were closest to them. Ravens and crows and vultures would feast on them until nothing remained but skull and pieces rotten flesh that the beaks could not reach.

 _A promising start for a promising king, indeed._

Later that day:

Aliena walked along the battlements under the stars, as she had always done when something troubled her. Just that now, with her uncle's death, no one would forbid her to anymore and that took most of the thrill out of it. She had cried her tears for Robert, now she had to move on, push the pain away and transform it into something useful.

In King's Landing, those that stopped and stood still would often find themselves run over by those that knew only one way: forward. That was her direction, too. Sadness and remorse would not help her, only revenge and ambition. She stood on the battlements, her back to the keep, and looked over the city. The red light of the torches shone here and there, apart from that, the city was dark. No moonlight illuminated the scenery tonight. _As dark and grave as my thoughts_. She walked on and came to a niche in the inner wall. She came here sometimes, sat on the sandy stones and waited for the sunrise. It was too early for that, the old day still lingered in its darkest hours. The city might be asleep but the keep was not. And the brothels and inns would be populated as well. Aliena leaned against the cold stone, the nights were getting crisp. Autumn was almost there, looming for them. _Winter is coming for us all but not for House Stark._ Aliena knew that the boy king that had raised his troops would not last long. The Riverlands and The North could not win alone against the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and sooner or later, the boy would make a mistake just like his father. There were two other boys at Winterfell, the cripple and the babe. No one would fight for their birthrights, should they survive. Sansa was the last Stark and she would give up her name, most likely to a Lannister, and present her lucky husband with a keep on his wedding day. The sound of footsteps roused her from her thoughts. _A guard?_ "Who is there?" A low voice, male. Was it _him_? She came out of her niche just to be disappointed. Instead of the Hound, a slim man came around the corner, clad in tunic and breastplate. She knew his face, the aquiline but reddened nose and bloodshot eyes of a drunkard, curved lips that often glistened with saliva and a well-trimmed beard. Most of the ladies at court fancied him, tall and fair and lean as he was. _Barth, Ser Barth._ It came back to her. He had been good in the melee, she remembered. Meryn Trant had knighted him a year ago. "Mylady?" The man staggered and it was Aliena's first reflex to push him out of the way and run, back down to the barracks. A stupid impulse, surely. There was nothing to fear, he was just a vain, cocky fool.

"Good night, Ser. I am just on my way to my chambers." She came out of the niche to walk past him but he did not move.

"Ser, you are standing in my way." she added sharpness to her voice but he seemed to weigh something. Perhaps her first impulse was wrong.

"Surely, you have some time for a knight?" he slurred his speech so much that Aliena found it hard to understand him. His body language said enough though. He came towards her, staggering slowly. She made a desperate attempt to get away from him, she ran and pushed him but she came not very far.

"A lady should not run when a knight is kind to her." He said while he dragged her back to the niche.

"Ser, consider. If you do what I fear you might want to do, you will have no future here. If you just let me go now-"

"Let you go? No. Men dream of you. They dream of this. Right now, they lie in their cell and dream of a lady in their arms. I will go down to the hall tomorrow and announce that I had the white swan...they will be jealous, they will admire me. But everyone will know that I get what I want. Always."

"You will die a traitor's death for laying hand on the king's blood." Aliena said in a desperate attempt to buy time. Every moment they talked was a moment he did nothing else. A guard might come, although this part was normally deserted.

"No one will tell the king." he said. "You do not even know my name."

"No, I do not. But I can find out." _Who knew what he would do if he knew she knew his name? He went too far already._

"Pretty lady." he said and brushed some hair off her shoulder. She could have retched up.

"Very pretty." his hands went to the fastening of her overgown. Aliena knew she should call for help now but her voice did not seem to work. Her throat was dry and no words would come out. She slapped his hands away, desperately. But they went there again, to her bust, and again she slapped them away. He grew angry now.

"I am a knight, you do as I wish. Do you know how happy most ladies here would be if I gave them what I will give you?" he slapped her across the face and held her wrists in an iron grip with his long, strong fingers. _Bruises to make them believe me. Good._

He pushed her against the wall and Aliena was remembered of that afternoon in Winterfell….just that that had been pleasant and breathtaking and exhilarating. She felt her heart pounding faster in her chest, out of fear this time though. He opened her overgown and reached the soft samite of her white underdress, laced up at the back. He did not bother to open her gown conventionally. He put a finger between her breasts and tore the fabric to the navel. Her corset was visible now, and her breasts that spilled out a little. He touched them and Aliena wriggled. He did not stop though and suddenly, she found her voice again, and she screamed - but only managed a cry before a hand muffled her words in the same instant she spoke them. "Shht, little lady. I promise, all have called me a great lover. You will find pleasure in it." He yanked up her skirts, kept her pushed against the wall with his body. She felt bile rising up her throat. She would not hold it back when it came to it. Tears ran down her cheeks now, she had never been so scared. Dying was one thing, being _used_ like this another. "Shht, do not cry, woman. It will not become you well." He had opened his breeches and took it out, ready to… - when a voice spoke from the darkness. "This will not become you well." A rasping voice. The next instant, Barth lay on the stones and a dark shadow loomed over him, sinking his fist into the man's face again and again.

Sandor

"Leave him to me, please." Her voice was hoarse and low and it took him a moment to realise it was hers. All he wanted was to beat this man to death, sink his hands into his face, his guts, slice him into parts… but he got up, pushed the bloody man out of the way with his boot and walked over to her as he should have done right away.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, gruffly but with concern in his voice.

She only shook her head but when he reached her, he saw tears on her cheeks. _Has she ever cried like that before?_ He wondered. Maybe as a girl but not in recent years. Her tears had been part of a scheme, normally, like those she had cried for her uncle.

He heaved her up by the shoulders and tried to put her back on her feet but she hung in his arms like a wet sack of flour, sobbing and shaking. He did not know what to do. She was strong, she did not cry like this. She never lost control. He felt like going back to the damned _knight_ and giving him a taste of his blade but his arms were occupied. He still held her, her tears soaked his tunic and his hand rubbed little circles on her upper back. He felt utterly useless and her crying was a horrible sound that curled his blood. After a while, he could not say how much time had passed, she lifted her head. He saw how undone her dress was, her upper half was barely concealed, the skirt was tucked up and he saw her bare legs, the feet in satin slippers. _What has that creature done?!_ He felt heat rising in him, a rage rarely known. But he remembered her words.

"You are still-" he gestured towards her garb but then she bursted into tears again. _What a fool I am._ She stopped the sobbing soon although silent tears still ran over her cheeks. Shaking fingers closed the clasps of her overdress, let her skirts fall down again. Her white dress was dirty and stained with blood from his hands where he had held her. She threw her cloak over the blood stains but it was still bad. Mud covered it, even visible in the faint light. How would he smuggle her into the keep? She could go to his sleeping cell, rest there while he sneaked a gown out for her...But if someone found her in his rooms like this, he would be shortened by a head and she would be worthless for her king and every other man. No one wanted the Hound's leftovers.

They would have to beard the lion in his den. She straightened her skirts for all the good it did them. She looked horrible. On shaky legs, she walked over to the man that lay on the ground, squatted next to his face.

"You wanted a lady's cunt around your cock. Wait until I am done with you and then tell me whether that was worth it."

Her voice was hoarse and weak but there was hatred in those words, a coldness he had never heard before from her. She got back up and staggered over to him, he held her arm as they walked around the battlements, descended the serpentine stairs. After they had passed some soldiers and their curious looks she pulled up her hood but she said not a word. Reluctantly, he let go of her arm when they reached the inner bailey. Preston Greenfield kept watch at the drawbridge and stared at them but he said nothing. Sandor hoped he could smuggle her into her chambers without being seen but the king's voice sounded through the corridor. She gazed up at him from under her white hood and he saw the catastrophe: Her face was red and swollen from her crying, tear-stained, her eyes reddened and lips sore and dry. A bruise covered the greater part of her cheek. She had never looked so ugly but there was something that went soft in him as he saw her like this. "In there." It was no more than a cupboard for linen and Sandor was a big man. They stood squeezed in the darkness, he felt her heart beating under the palm of his hand which was uncomfortably located between their bodies. If it had not been so tragic, he could have laughed. Close to her he had wanted to be and now there was no body part of hers that did not touch one of his. She had not spoken a word though.

They heard the king walk past them with some of his knightly entourage. "My cousin is a woman, truly. Not just a meek girl. I will marry the Stark girl for duty and make my cousin my mistress, once she is wed. Maegor had six wives, my father had hundreds of women. Kings have a great appetite, they say." They heard the sound of the boys' breathless laughter. _Fools. And a fucking bastard with a crown._ He opened the cupboard door and when she came out, she was almost back to normal. Her eyes were still a little swollen, her lips still redder and nothing could help with that bruise but apart from that, she looked as she always had. Apart from her dirty and torn gown. They walked over to the royal chambers when a voice cut through the heavy silence.

"Aliena, what happened to you?!"

There was disgust in the boy's voice. He neared from the rear. The girl turned around, smiling.

"I had hoped I could just hide my shame." A little laugh. _She is strong. And the puppeteer is back, taking over from the girl she was._

"I tripped over my cloak and tumbled a few steps down the serpentine stairs before Clegane stopped me from rolling further. I owe him my life."

"Well, you look horrible. Cover that bruise up, it makes you look like my dog." To him, the boy nodded.

"You were quite useful, dog." His gaze went back to his cousin, the torn neckline of the gown, her breasts half visible. he saw the lust in the boy's eyes.

"I will gift you with a new dress soon, Mylady. I might even help you change into it." He looked at her suggestively and then walked past them. Sandor followed the girl into her chambers, uncertain what he should do. All he knew was that he couldn't just leave.

The girl sat on her bed, oblivious to his presence, he saw tears streaming down her cheeks again, silently this time, like those she had cried for the king.

Sandor shifted uncomfortably and the sound made her rise her head. Surprise was plain on her reddened face and Sandor felt, once more, that he was wrong here. _What did I bloody expect? What was I even thinking? I do not belong here, I am not fit to_ console _her, to give her_ comfort _. I am the Hound, her cousin's dog. I can rescue her from other monsters. 'A beast to kill a beast.' She had it right. But she would never - I don't want her to anyway. All these tears, she looks like a maggot._ But although he tried to find her ugly, her face, her tears, her sobbing touched something inside him that he did not even know existed. And he would have preferred it that way. With long strides, he made for the door.

"Please…" hoarse, small, pitiful, what once had been rich, melodious and strong. Yet, he stopped and turned around to her.

"I thank you. Wholeheartedly. I have treated you unkindly but it was for your own good."

 _She noticed I like- I want her and tried to fight me off._

"The thing with your brother….the queen … well, had you attacked Ned Stark, the would have been consequences. I had to make you angry. I am sorry."

 _She does not have a clue._ Sandor was relieved about that but still… She had manipulated him, used him. He felt anger hot as burning coals in his chest but when he looked back at her face, his anger subsided. He had never seen her so despaired and disheartened.

"It just seems that I cannot-" _Can't what?_ She breathed in deeply and then, she smiled, she put her mask back on and whatever she had wanted to say hung in the air like mist.

Sandor detected that he was both relieved and disappointed. He had wanted to be close to her, yes. But when she started speaking in that naked, honest voice, his first impulse was to run. He had been _scared_. Of her words and their consequences? Would he still be able to loathe her after this? What if he couldn't? Would he _care_? Those were the questions that had flashed through his mind. He had not cared for someone in a long time, maybe he never had. It was not supposed to be, he was the Hound, he cared for nothing, was scared of nothing.

She threatened him...and he had no idea how to fight her, how could he fight an enemy without steel? An enemy he did not even want to defeat?

"Thank you, Clegane." Her voice was back to normal as well and as he looked up, he saw that her face was pretty again, although the bruise looked horrible.

"Again, I have to thank you for rescuing me. It might sound ridiculous but you saved more than just my life. My honour, my virtue. You deserve a token of my gratitude. Speak, and it is yours."

"You have no honour, woman. I spit on your gratitude. I rescued you because you are the king's little pet, you have nothing to thank me for. I did not do it for you."

Lying came easier to him when he was with her. There was so much more he had to protect, to shield, to obscure. He had followed her, in some distance, then he had lost her in the darkness until her muffled cry had alarmed him. But no one could ever know how weak he was when it came to her, least of all the girl that had every other man dancing like a fool.

"Well, then have my thanks anyway." Her smile had grown colder but it still lingered.

"Of course, I need to ask you to keep quiet about the truth…"

"No worries, little swan, I won't sing." Sandor reached for the door handle, willing to stop should she speak only a single word, but she stayed silent and then he stood outside on the cold corridor, feeling empty and disappointed despite himself.


	19. Chapter 19

I needed to quote some dialogue for the Great Hall scene. No copyright infringement is intended, that text is property of GRRM.

* * *

King's Landing

Aliena

 _King_ Joffrey held court today for the first time. Only few noble lords and ladies remained in King's Landing, most of the South had fled to follow either Renly or Stannis, most from North of the Trident had fled to join Robb Stark. It was pitiable indeed, the small court. Aliena wondered whether she had made the right decision...but Renly had no claim whatsoever, Stannis was the rightful king, and Aliena would never follow him. Her uncle was a stern man who inspired no affection and who felt no affection himself. Even worse, he could not be charmed or swayed, he was as rigid as steel and no king should be carved from ice.

Aliena found her place among the courtiers, close to the throne, in her cousin's field of view. She had taken special care with her wardrobe today. A gown is a lady's heraldry. Hers spoke of her Swann blood: A black satin crepe gown with white, dagged sleeves that looked like wings. The bodice and back were covered in white Myrish lace that extended over the sleeves as well. The neckline was as low as modesty allowed and a golden necklace, a roaring lion with onyx eyes, drew attention to her chest. Her bruise had been prominent on her jaw but now it already started to fade now, she had needed only a little powder to cover it up. As for _Ser_ Barth...he would soon get the shock of his life.

Few noblemen remained to admire her, though. Ser Andar and his family had departed in the dead of the night, without so much as a goodbye. He had sent her a letter explaining that the queen's arrest of Lord Stark and her own behaviour on that day had led him and his father to believe that she was the queen's staunch ally, even in this crime she committed, and that he, Andar, released her from the promise she had given him. A number of truisms followed, her was still her loyal servant, he still held her higher in esteem than every other woman and should she still desire his hand and heart, he would go back and fight for her. Aliena ripped the paper in pieces and watched it burn to ashes in her hearth.

"All hail His Grace, Joffrey of Houses Lannister and Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. All hail his lady mother, Cersei of House Lannister, Queen Regent, Light of the West and Protector of the Realm."

Joffrey and his mother entered the Great Hall and as they walked past Aliena, Joff gave her an appreciative look. He looked kingly today, black velvet, crimson silk and cloth-of-gold, on his golden hair a crown of gold, rubies and black diamonds. The new king seated himself in the iron chair as he smiled to Sansa, at the back of the hall. Isolated the girl was now, all alone without friends or allies. Just what the queen wanted. Cersei sat at the council table, the first woman to do so. Aliena wanted to be the first woman to sit on the Lord's chair in Storm's End and this might help her.

"It is a king's duty to punish the disloyal and reward those who are true. Grand Maester Pycelle, I command you to read my decrees."

The list of those who were commanded to swear fealty to the king was long, longer than the list of those that were his loyal subjects. The Royces were amongst them as well, the Martells of Dorne, the Tyrells of HIghgarden, all her uncles and...the Starks of Winterfell. Sansa stood at the back of the hall, especially beautiful in a black mourning gown and simple jewellry. She would beg the king for mercy for her traitor father, that was obvious. The girl fidgeted nervously like maid on her wedding day.

The shame of Ser Barristan was hard to look at. He was the last made from the old stuff, honourable and brave and tough, although proud and old. Whoever followed into his footsteps had a lot to live up to. Who would it be? Aliena hoped that her cousin, Ser Balon would be considered. He was a good lance, a quick sword and an unerring arrow. Yet….

"The king and the council have determined that no man in the Seven Kingdoms is more fit to guard and protect His Grace than his own sworn shield, Sandor Clegane." The queen announced, calmly.

"How do you like that, dog?" Joffrey was as giddy as a child on its nameday.

 _Him. Of all men...sworn to stay here, sworn to protect the king, sworn never to take a wife nor to father children._ A strange feeling spread through her body. Sandor Clegane's face gave nothing away, still as stone but Aliena thought she saw his eyes flicker to her. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. He had not looked at her for almost a week. It took him a long moment to consider…

Sandor

His first reaction was refusal. Yet, how could he? Serve this boy king, he would, till death. There was no way out for him and he had sworn his sword to him. His life was here, _she_ …If he took the white, he could never- well, he could never anyway. He didn't want to. Yet, swearing it in front of her was something else. She looked up at him, expectant. He had waited for a while now. He had to make a decision. He would swear to protect the royal family. She was part of that, somehow, wasn't she?

Aliena

"I have no lands nor wife to forsake. Even if I did, who would care?" He rasped. The tiny glimmer of hope in her was snuffed out. ' _It would never be'_ she thought and in the moment she became aware of what exactly she had expressed, she grew angry with herself. _No more thoughts about him_.

Sansa stepped forward to ask for the king's mercy, on her knees in a sweet, soft voice. Was that what _he_ liked? Aliena wondered. He had treated her kindly, she had heard and seen it herself. More kindly than any other... _What does he find in her that I do not have?_ Jealousy was a terrible thing, it ate a piece into the soul. Aliena shrugged the thought off. It did not matter, anyway.

Joffrey played the gallant today and, after a wonderfully orchestrated discussion with his mother, promised her mercy should her father confess his sins. What he did _not_ promise her though was that he would spare Ned Stark's life…

Later, in Aliena's chambers

"Mylady? You have business with me and here I am." Varys sat at her table, a cup of wine in front of him.

"We need to make plans for the war. What are your plans for the upcoming war, Mylord? It is inevitable now."

Varys looked at her, the faint expression of surprise on his face.

"Mylady, you are too pessimistic. The queen has promised that Lord Eddard may take the black if he confesses. He has agreed to that to save his daughter. I see no reason for war."

"Have we witnessed the same conversation? It is not Cersei I worry about, she might be impulse but she is easy to influence. Joffrey on the other hand is becoming more and more uncontrollable. He has promised the girl mercy. With normal men, that might mean he promised her to let him live. With him, it means he promised her he will not have him flayed or burned alive."

Varys seemed concerned, now.

"I understand your concern. Go to him. Be kind, be affectionate, be cruel. Say what you must. Eddard Stark's life is of foremost importance."

"I have. 'The Night's Watch is a place without honour, the worst torture.' I have told him and yet, he wants to see blood. He is very fond of blood and death, my cousin. The finer art of torture does not interest him much, I fear."

"I do hope you are wrong. I will make sure the queen knows the importance of mercy in this special case. We will both return to our chores, mylady." The plump man got up and hurried out of the room, disguised as a maidservant again.

The King's apartments

"I am so thankful you have invited me to dine with you on this very special day." Aliena purred.

Joffrey had called on her to feast with him after he overheard servants' bawdy talk. Clever Varys. Now they sat in his solar, feasted on pumpkin soup, roasted ham and chicken, beef and venison pies, boiled and roasted potatoes, vegetables, thick gravy and soft white bread buns.

Clegane, the newly made Kingsguard, stood guard by door in the room, his face concealed by that ugly helmet, Ser Meryn and Ser Arys kept watch outside on the corridor. She could not escape the room.

"You look stunning in colours, Mylady." Joffrey smiled, a smile filled with desire. Aliena had chosen a gown of heavy green and silver brocade, simple in cut with a flared skirt, a low neckline and long, wide sleeves. Her neck was bare, her hair down and fashionably curled.

"I thank you. After this dreadful day I felt like wearing something more cheerful than mourning clothes. I hope you do not feel I lack respect for you dead lord father."

"Not at all. I understand you...Ser Barristan has still not been seized." The king looked grim.

 _I do not mean him, fool._

"He will be, I am sure of that. He is an old man. I was oddly touched by Lady Sansa's words today and yet they made me sad."

"Indeed. She has pleaded for his life quite sweetly. I always like a lady on her knees." He laughed.

"Yet, will her father really value life over death at the Wall? A grim place, full of criminals and scum. Sansa has not done him a kindness with that."

"Who says he will be going to the wall? I will have his head for what he said."

"A great mercy indeed, Your Grace. You have a kind heart." _He will not like that at all._

"You think a public execution is _kind_? What could be worse than that?"

"Well, considerably so, yes. He loses his head and his life. For a common man,there is nothing worse. But Eddard Stark loves his honour, his pride far more than his life. Shaming him will be a proper punishment. Killing reliefs him from his shame."

Joffrey looked at her, considering.

"What would you do then?"

"I am only a woman, Your Grace. But I would make him confess in front of the people of King's Landing, make him confess his sins and shame him. Then, sent him away, alone, to live with his shame. Life itself is nothing to him. If I could pass the sentence, I would sent him to the wall. Make him serve his younger brother, make him serve the bastard son, make sure that he will forever stay a steward, sleep in a cold icy cell, no honour, no power. Someone else as hand, his own son surpassing him as Lord Stark. He would have to forsake all titles, all honours, live until he is grey and old, in shame, rejected for his crimes by his sworn brothers."

"I see… It would hurt him more than death, is that what you say?"

"I am sure of that, Your Grace."

"I will consider it… I like the notion of having him confess in front of all the people of King's Landing. They will demand his life."

"They are common people, they have no taste for the subtleties of mental torture. All they have to lose is their lives."

"You would make a good counsellor, mylady. And a good queen. Should the traitor die, and his sons with him then Winterfell would go to Sansa."

"And your second son will be heir to Winterfell."

"My second son will be heir to Storm's End, the next to Casterly Rock. I have no need for a cold keep for my sons. Another man can have her. I can marry you. I am king, you can be heir to Storm's End. A good match for a king, better than the traitor's whelp."

He was right. He had thought about this for a long time.

"I am yours, my king. Even without the cloak. Marriages bind great houses together. Even if you do not marry Sansa, your bride has to be from a noble house."

Joffrey did not like the bitter truth and Aliena was relieved when the desserts were served.

She had ordered them, her favourites. Sweets were always her weakness. It was marzipan, intricately carved and fashioned. The king's dessert was a wolf's head. Aliena's was a swan, just like the one the Hound had spared on the Trident. She hoped Joffrey would get the notion. Both desserts were decorated with strawberry sauce.

Joffrey sneered.

"You have already served me a wolf's head, Mylady." She laughed at his meek joke.

"What do you have? -A swan? Why _that_? The swan is your own sigil."

Aliena wanted to reply but a voice cut in, raw like freshly cut wood.

"The swan that escaped on the Trident. The swan you promised her for the feast." The Hound did not exactly laugh but Aliena thought she detected something like amusement.

Joffrey laughed.

"You have a good memory, dog." He said, patronisingly.

"And you, Mylady, have a very fine taste." His eyes followed the line of her neck, down to the neckline of her gown.

After their dinner, Joffrey told her how he planned to kill his uncles, sweet fantasies of a sweet child.

"My uncle Stannis has always fancied himself the proper stag, he will be impaled on sharpened antlers. Renly has deserted us and he has always loved his finery...I will undress im. To the flesh, if you understand." _He means to flay his own uncle alive - and mine, too._ Aliena felt terribly sick, her stomach rumbled.

"A fitting punishment indeed, my king. I fear though, that I have to leave you now. It is getting late and we do not want any talk that might shame us both." She smiled.

"I do not care a fig for what they say. I am their king, they will do as I bid, they will be quiet or I will have their tongues."

Hot blooded but slow minded, her king.

She walked over to his seat at the table, leant over him, her cheek touching hers, her hands touched his chest, lightly. She could smell his bad breath after the meal.

"No mercy." She nodded. "No mercy for them, no mercy for traitors."

She dared not being bolder in fear of making him wary.

Joffrey turned his head to her and kissed her on the cheek, held on to one of her hands, and she felt his pulse quickening.

"You could stay here tonight. In the royal bed."

"I wish I could." Aliena drew back but Joffrey still held her.

"I want you. I command you to." he grew angry. Aliena caressed his chest, his face.

"I do hope that you respect me and my virtue enough to wait until it is appropriate." her voice had cooled down.

"I am the king-"

"I know that. If you were not, we would be together now, happily married in Storm's End, maybe I would already be pregnant with your heir." She painted the picture he wanted.

"But you are the king. A king has duties. The realm is divided and marriage will bind other Great Houses to yours. I have no banner, no men, no fortress, no wealth."

Joffrey's grip loosened.

"You gave me your word-"

"-that I will forever be yours. Marry a noble lady, give me a noble husband, and we will be together in flesh, not only in dreams." _Which man would not be softened by the prospect that a woman dreamt of him?_

"You dream of me?" he was pleased, very pleased. Aliena blushed, she looked at her shoes, shily.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I have said too much already. I will go to my chambers now,I cannot-" she hesitated.

"Justice awaits us, my king. I need my sleep, dreams and all." A quick suggestive smile, then she lowered her eyes, humbly. Joffrey stood up and led her to the door.

"I bid you good night, cousin." He kissed her on the mouth, eager to taste her, she felt his tongue, wet on her lips - but then she managed to break free and curtsied low.

"Good night, Your Grace."

"Dog, see my cousin to her chambers." _No, why him?!_

"Your Grace is too kind to lend me your sworn shield but I am sure he is needed more here. Ser Arys will escort me just as safely." But she had backed the wrong horse. Ser Arys was rather handsome and young as well. Joffrey was a jealous boy, and possessive.

"I do not like the way he looks at you. You'll be safer with my dog. We would not want your virtue ravished."

Aliena almost laughed. She was in more danger from the Hound than from the Oak. And she herself wanted the - _No._

"As you command, my king."

Clegane did not make any move to open the door for her, so she did it herself and he followed. The walk to her chambers were not long but there was tension between them. They had not talked anymore since he had rescued her that night, since he had rebuffed her again so unkindly. Aliena did not know what to think. He was a rough man without manners but with her, he was almost malicious. Yet, he had saved her, rather often over the years. He had helped her and she remembered times when she had helped him as well, despite drew her towards him, something that she did not like at all because it made her feel vulnerable and weak. She fought the feeling but it was always there, lingering at the back of her mind…

They finally reached her door, she was the only one who lived here now. Myrcella's and Tommen's chambers were close by but this was her corridor now and it lay deserted, only every second sconce lit. Aliena stood in the doorway. They had not said a word but she felt the urge to talk to him although her common sense told her not to.

"I think congratulations are in order. Sandor Clegane of the Kingsguard. One of the Sacred Seven, the successor of Lewyn Martell, Aemon the Dragonknight, Ser Arthur Dayne, the brave Sword of the Morning -"

"Spare me your good wishes, swan. And your mockery, too. Our gracious king will soon grow tired of you delaying tactics and then he will walk the talk. You will need my white shield that you condemn now." He was harsh but Aliena thought there was a sadness in his voice, too.

"You are kind to say so but you have made very plain why you protect me, you have made plain that you despise me and that you only serve Joffrey. It is called _King_ sguard after all, not the 'King's cousin's guard'. I know that you are the last I can expect protection from should it come to … _that_. I wanted to congratulate you on your new rank. Apparently, I have angered you with this. I ask your forgiveness. For both our sakes have I ask Joff not to send you but here we are. I am utterly sorry that I am part of the bargain, too, but I will do my utmost to keep away from you, I promise."

She wanted to slam the door in his face but he put a foot in the way and she just slammed it against his boot. He did not even seem to notice. His gaze was fixed on her face, torment and pain and sadness in his misty grey eyes. _He looks as if he might cry._ He did not say a word, he just stared at her but Aliena had run out of words, too. His gaze reached her inside, she felt deliciously naked, exposed, a strange sensation. Slowly, he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his callused fingers brushed over her cheek and neck and Aliena shivered, a burning sensation spread between her thighs...she was sure he would be able to see the lust in her eyes, so she lowered her gaze.

"Take care, little swan." His voice was hoarse, rasping and oddly melancholic. But when she looked up again, he had put on his guard, eyes like steel and a face still as stone. She had never really seen him smile…

Aliena shut her door in his face and leaned against the dark, cool wood. This should never had happened. She had lost her temper, opened up too much, showed him her frustration...that was not good at all. She remembered the feeling when his skin had brushed over hers...Aliena was less than a novice when it came to this physical part. She had kissed Joffrey under duress and that was it. For a woman of six and ten, she was horribly inexperienced but she knew what she had just felt, for the first time in her life. Desire. _Oh Gods, he touched my neck and here I am, wet and wanton. It is a cruel joke indeed._ Maybe it was not about him, she tried to convince herself, as she unlaced her dress, washed her face and combed her hair. She had heard servant girls talking about it. How pleasurable it was to be kissed there, under the earlobe. That must be it. It had nothing to do with him at all. How did he even dare to touch her? By the end of the night, Aliena had convinced herself that he was no threat and that there was a logical explanation. She could turn her mind to the most important issue: Ned Stark and his end.


	20. Chapter 20

**King's Landing, the Great Sept of Baelor**

 **Arya**

Arya stood between Baelor the Blessed's painted marble legs, watching the scene unfolding in horror. Her father had confessed to crimes he was not guilty of, Arya knew he couldn't be, not her father. The angry mob threw stones at him and although many missed, some hit him, one of them took him in the face and left a bloody gash on his cheek. They were all so _wrong_. She did not know what would happen but surely this was just some sort of trick, it _must_ be.

Joffrey, the former prince, now king, stood there, smug and grinning, and talked about traitors...about mercy and the Night's Watch, the queen and her sister, Sansa. The king looked at her and smiled and Arya felt relief in her stomach, for a tiny moment the knot inside her loosened a little- only to be tightened harder than before.

"Ser Ilyn, bring me his head."

Shock took the girl on the statue and for a moment, she could not move. Up there on the steps, though, turmoil broke out and everyone seemed to move: The High Septon pulled on the king's cape, Varys the fat eunuch ran over to Joffrey, waving his arms, the queen talked to him insistently, the small man with the silver cape _smiled_ , a tiny hint of a smile and took a step towards the eunuch, the kingsguard moved away to let _him_ walk through, only two figures stood still as stone: The Hound looked straight ahead, his face mostly covered by the snarling dog's head helmet, and, next to him, a step behind Joffrey, stood the old king's niece, his favourite, the one who rode so well, unmoving with a face as still and grave as the statues in Winterfell's crypts. The king's justice emerged from between the white plate of the kingsguard and Arya found her strength back, she leapt from the statue, darted through the crowd but she knew she would be too late-

Aliena

She never heard the sword hitting flesh, not even the severed head hitting the granite of the stairs. She heard the silence of the crowd loudest as she looked upon the waterfall of blood that gushed from Eddard Stark's neck. Varys stood watching in horror, arms hanging now, shoulders rounded, a face as still as stone. She looked at Cersei who had grown pale but for two red spots on her cheeks, Sansa, on her knees, sobbing hysterically, Littlefinger with the ghost of a smile on his lips, as if he was the only one in on the joke. Ser Ilyn's face showed no emotion but Joffrey's smile was pure satisfaction. She had failed. The proof lay in front of her, dead and headless. She lifted her gaze up from the stump of Ned Stark's neck to meet Varys', eyes cool and full of sorrow. This meant trouble. _Your fault, your fault, your fault._ His eyes seemed to say. _It is not fair._ Aliena wanted to reply. _I have tried -_ But it was a feeble excuse that counted nothing. Trying meant nothing, only succeeding. Lord Eddard bled and so would the realm.

-King Joffrey's Nameday, the Outer Bailey-

Aliena

Aliena arrived at the king's tent flustered and out of breath. The queen had invited her to sit with her before the council meeting. Cersei was interested in her opinion although she did her best to conceal it. _Educate my beloved niece._ She called it but it was Aliena who fed her information, who influenced her and planted her own plans in the queen's mind. The weeks since Ned Stark's death were though for everyone, though toughest for the poor Sansa. Joffrey had her slapped and beaten, Aliena got to know and she tried to make the queen see sense and forbid her son. But Cersei had withdrawn to her solar after the execution and only came out for council meetings. Joffrey still had too much free time and it was Aliena who had to think of ways to stop him. She was not always there, she could not always help and it grieved her. _I meant to protect the girls, now one is on the run, wherever she might be, the other one bruised and beaten._

"Forgive me, Your Grace, your lady mother demanded my presence." Aliena curtsied low to allow him a glimpse of her breasts and then took her seat in the empty armchair next to the king's, in front of the Hound.

"I am your king and I demanded your presence as well." Her king was in a foul mood.

"Here I am." She smiled and put a hand on his arm. "I have a special nameday gift for you." she whispered, well audibly. Joffrey toucher her hand.

"I am glad to hear that. This tourney was boring me to death, I was just about to end it. And no one else seems to bother with gifts. It is my thirteenth nameday and I am their king, they should care."

Aliena smiled. S _poilt brat._

"I am to blame for this. I have planned a feast for tonight, a surprise, and every courtier has chosen a gift for you from a list your lady mother and I made. Do not fear that they do not pay you the respect you can demand, Your Grace."

"A feast, splendid. Just what I need after _this_. Only freeriding scum and gnats fight here, no knights."

"Why do you not fight then, Clegane? Or have you taken knight's vows with your white armour?" She smiled, but he did not let her provoke him.

"Why don't you, lady? Your tongue is sharper than their lances."

Aliena had to laugh at that and so did Joffrey.

"So I missed nothing?" she asked.

"Sansa has helped me to a new fool." Sansa looked at her shoes.

"I always thought we had enough fools at court, truly. How so, Sansa?" She asked the girl but Joff replied.

"There was a fool who I should have killed for his insolence but my dog and my _betrothed_ heed the superstitions of old spinsters and claim that it would bring me ill luck on my nameday. What did you say, dog? What I sow on my nameday I will reap throughout the year?" He turned to his sworn shield.

"Aye, something like that." Clegane did not meet her eye.

"The talk of the smallfolk, surely, how would _we_ know. Yet, I would have never taken you for a superstitious man, Clegane. Pray tell me, what do they say, what will men like you reap?"

"I don't dabble in farming." _No, you help our little Lady Stark. She will not let you pluck the flower, if that is what you are after._

The master of revels appeared in front of the pavillion.

"Your Grace, who shall fight next?"

"No one. This is a tourney of fools and gnats. The tourney is done."

"No!" Tommen shouted from his seat, angrily. "Mother promised me I could ride as well."

Joffrey was done with playing the gallant, although Aliena had lifted his mood, he was still disappointed and he was not used to that sentiment. Myrcella and Tommen pleaded with him but he stayed adamant.

"Your Grace, you only became such a talented warrior because your father allowed you to fight from an early age. Tommen has no father and the queen is an unfit teacher in this field, I fear. Would it not be cruel to deprive your brother of this chance to emulate you? He will one day hold a keep in your name."

Aliena put her hand on his leg, just above the knee, a soft touch, like a feather. She watched Joffrey giving in and then Tommen, riding on his pony. He cheered for Casterly Rock, not for Storm's End…

And then he fell. Joffrey laughed, loudly and cruelly at his brother's shame. Sansa seemed to have lost her mind and told the king what to do...until the Hound interrupted him. The boy was helped up on his pony again.

"There you have it. It does not matter how often you fall if you get back up once more."

Aliena chuckled until the rattling of the gatehouse chilled her to the bones for a second. But she had heard not armour, no cheers and screams and there was no way an army could make its way through the capital so silently...or was there?

Clegane drew his sword as the gate was lifted but Aliena needed only a second to assess the situation.

"Put your sword back, Clegane, it seems His Grace's long lost uncle has returned in full height and pride."

Indeed, Lord Tyrion sat on a strange high saddle, clearly the leader of the motley group.

Myrcella and Tommen were fond of their little uncle but Joffrey stayed, still foul mooded and petulant.

Tyrion waddled over to them, small and grotesque. His greeting was cool though not as cool as the king's.

"Mylady. Colour is becoming you." Tyrion nodded towards the red gown that she had donned for the King's Nameday. "Although black would be more fitting considering your uncle's untimely death...yet, many go through the stages of mourning rather quickly these days."

"Mylord is too kind. I truly wish I could return the compliment. As for my uncle...he would be the last one to appreciate mourning. On his deathbed he told us to roast the boar that slew him and feast in memory of him. But how would you know, you were never high in his favour, the Gods know why."

Aliena smiled at him. Tyrion had never liked her and she repaid the favour. He was the best of the Lannisters, for sure, but too proud of his quick wits and too sorry for himself. He disliked her for being the queen's confidant.

"Have you brought me a nameday gift, uncle?" Joffrey asked him.

"My wits." His short uncle replied. _There we have it._

Joffrey got up and left his uncle standing there, with Sansa. They walked back to the holdfast.

"When will the feast be, Aliena?"

"When the sun sets, Your Grace. A long table is raised in the Great Hall right now and next to it, a platform for dancing. There will be fireworks outside as well." He loved the show of lights, Aliena knew.

In truth, a feast was the last thing they could afford with the food shortage in the capital. Aliena had written to her own steward in Jesmond that half of the supplies in her castle's kitchens were sent up to King's Landing. Bread and Ale was to be distributed in her name amongst the smallfolk on a later day. Today, thirteen courses would be served, pies and roast, soups, cheese and three sweet desserts, all washed down with Arbor vintage and sour Dornish wine. A lot of their food came from Lady Tanda and Lord Gyles, the Cougher who therefore only had small gifts for the king.

Aliena had a visitor when she came into her rooms.

"Mylord."

She should have known.

"I heard you planned a great feast for your young king. A splendid idea. And he will see that all our prisoners are judged justly on the morrow?"

"We have no food to feed them. I have made a selection, in the king's name. Many will be sent to the wall, they still have the supplies to feed men. Some will be set free outside of the city walls. Others, only the Gods can help."

"I have heard of a rapist who once was a knight…"

"There are many rapists in our cells, I fear. I did not keep track. Justice waits for them all."

"A justice I know well, but not under the same circumstances." HIs smile was troubled now but his eyes had a sharpness Aliena knew well.

"Indeed, you never told me. How did they take what a man holds most dear?" She smiled, sympathetically.

"A long tale, and a sad one. I will tell you some other time. You know it happened when I was only a boy...like our good king. Yet, I heard the Lord Stannis claimed Joffrey were a bastard of the queen and her own brother and not our good king at all."

"A truly opprobrious insinuation." _And so true._

"The queen has not yet seen the letter. In sooth, it is not yet written. Still, once it is, it might be too late."

"We have a new Lord Hand now. I am confident he will set that right. He will see that it is a claim, no more. And as you are on the small council, you can lead our gracious Hand on the right path should he stray. I see no reason to deny him his chance."

"You are very kind, Mylady, and so optimistic. You trust our good Lord Tyrion?" _Not at all._

"Entirely."

"And yet one could think you are enemies."

"We all play our roles, Mylord, for the good of the realm. A friend of Joffrey cannot be a friend of Tyrion. But I know the _man_."

 _Ayey, and his weaknesses. I heard we both found a new one already._

"He will make justice and isn't justice what we all want. Mylord? If he wants to get his hands dirty, why, I will not object." Aliena took a seat at her table and poured some watered wine in two cups. One, she offered him.

"It is generous to offer him this chance. I hope you will enjoy the dancing and singing tonight, Mylady. You have a few songs to sing."

"Quite a few. Our good Lady Sansa spots some bruises that match the colour of her eyes."

"I do doubt it was this romantic notion that our king had in mind when he honoured her."

"Indeed, romance is not his strong point. The girl has suffered enough already."

"And she will suffer more."

"Her family will die, whether Robb Stark won the battle or not. They have Ser Jaime, they can kill him, it will not do them good. The Northerners have too much honour for their own good. Our Lord Tywin has none. The Northmen will impale themselves on their own swords. We have seen it before. Before the year ends we shall sing a new song for the lion's enemy. But our Lady Sansa is the last wolf, it would not do to have her seriously harmed."

Varys looked at her apprehensively.

"Why, Mylady, sometimes, you still surprise me. I called our good Lord Baelish the second most devious man in Westeros. Sometimes, I am not sure who of you comes first."

"If you are unsure I have done everything right." She smiled.

The feast was a splendid affair, although only few courtiers were there. Aliena had seen to it that Sansa had a gift for the greedy king and a new gown, green satin with lions embroidered on it, cut in her own style with an undergown of cloth of gold and long dagged sleeves. The girl's neckline was more modest though and her cleavage was covered by golden Myrish lace to hide Joffrey's latest courtesies. Aliena would try and put an end to that. Sansa would look breathtaking in the gown with her auburn hair and Aliena did feel a sting of jealousy when she saw her in the Hall. She would turn out to be more beautiful than she herself. Maybe that was why _he_ preferred her.

Sansa

Sansa did not feel like a feast at all, but she went, she had no choice.

Lady Aliena, the king's cousin who had always been so kind to her, had sent her a gown that was worth more than anything Sansa had ever possessed, green satin and cloth of gold, embroidered with golden lions. She wore the lion necklace that Joffrey had given her. She was thankful for the sheer golden lace that covered her up to the throat. The bruises that Ser Meryn had left on her neck would not be visible. She wondered whether the Lady knew about that. Joffrey loved her dearly, he listened to her more than to his mother. If the queen could not sway her son, she would look to the dark haired girl and Lady Aliena would go and whisper to the king. She was successful eight out of ten times. But up there, on the steps in front of the Great Sept, she had not tried, she had not whispered into the king's ear to plead for her father's life. That, Sansa could never forgive her and if she sent her ten new gowns.

Her maid curled her hair and put some of it under a golden hairnet set with emeralds. She looked beautiful, and she knew that. Tonight, Joffrey would be kind. He always was kinder to her with the Swann lady and the queen and tonight, she looked so splendid.

Indeed, when she entered the hall, escorted by Ser Arys, Joffrey rose from his seat at the far end of the long, wide table and walked towards her.

"You look most beautiful, Mylady. I ask your forgiveness for my rudeness today." He was gallant today and although Sansa hated him, his compliments still fell on good soil. She blushed.

"I thank you, my - king. You look splendid as the sun." She curtsied low and as she rose, Joffrey offered her his arm. The touch of his skin disgusted her but she was a lady. She remembered her courtesies. Joffrey led her to the far end of the table. A huge golden chair stood in the middle, flanked by two smaller ones. On each side of the table, over fifty chairs led down to the other end, where another high golden throne stood, flanked by two smaller chairs. The king and the Queen Regent would sit on those. Joffrey flanked by her and his cousin. Sansa was thankful for that. The queen would sit amongst her lords, she guessed, to show her position as Regent. A clever seating order, no doubt planned by Lady Aliena.

She sat down with Joffrey, on his right side as his wife-to-be. He talked to her, gallantly, of songs and tales this time and not of war and her brother's head. He was the prince she had loved,but in truth, he was the king she hated now and nothing could make her forget it. Still, she was careful to be entertaining and sweet. His mood swings were horrible. They were chatting about Jonquil and her fool when Joffrey lifted his head and stared at the entrance doors. Sansa turned her head and saw her at once. Lady Aliena wore a gown of midnight blue velvet without the split skirt she always sported. The bodice was very tight and had a low neckline in the shape of a V. The neckline and upper half of her bodice were embroidered with stars of silver and diamonds, the same embellishments decorated the waist of the gown. A strip of embellished blue fabric stretched over her collarbones to her shoulders, where a long cape of sheer organza was attached. It was dark blue, embroidered with a thousand stars in thread of silver. Her dark hair flowed over the cape, some strands held in place with a comb of diamonds and sapphires. She looked like the night sky. Sansa had been happy with her appearance until now.

"Truly, you are a lucky man, Your Grace. Two ladies at your sides, one as beautiful as the other." Ser Arys whispered into the king's ear but Sansa heard him. He was kind enough to lie, she knew full well that she had nothing on Lady Aliena.

Joffrey got up to greet her.

"You look beautiful, Mylady,"

"You are too kind." Aliena curtsied.

"Ah, Sansa. Show me your gown." She did as she was told, although she felt horrible. Next to her, she was nothing. But Joffrey seemed to like it a lot. For the first time in moons, he looked at her properly.

"You are almost a woman now, Sansa. We will be able to marry soon. You have become far more beautiful than I thought." he nodded, approvingly. _I don't want to marry you. Take your cousin._

"Thank you, Your Grace. I look forward to it much." Sansa knew her courtesies.

It took a while until all guests had arrived, everyone in their most splendid garb. Jallabhar Xho, the exiled prince from the Summer Islands, wore a cape of peacock feathers and the queen wore a gown that was entirely made of cloth of gold with red samite lining and rubies embroidered on neckline and seams. A necklace of five huge rubies glittered at her throat like blood and her hair was covered by a veil sewn with rubies as well. She looked every inch a queen as she took her seat between Lord Baelish and her cousin, Ser Lancel, Robert's squire. Tyrion Lannister sat further up the table, almost in the middle, next to Lady Tanda and her daughter on one side and his sellsword Bronn on the other. He did not look too happy, Sansa thought. At their own end, the knights of the Kingsguard sat, four of them. Ser Boros Blount guarded the drawbridge with some hundred Lannister guards, Ser Mandon stood behind the king's chair, looking at the dishes with longing. Lady Aliena sat next to her cousin, Ser Balon, garbed all int black and white today, with a double swan clasp at his black cloak. Sansa had a less pleasant neighbour. The Hound sat at her right side and Sansa was happy that this way,at least she did not have to see the horribly burnt side of his face, she did not know whether she could have kept her food down. He did not talk to her though and seemed just as unhappy with his seat as she was. Joffrey talked to her cordially and friendly, sometimes supported by Lady Aliena, and took her mind off the Hound.

The feast itself was splendid. Thirteen course came and went, one better than the next. Aliena cordially warned her to leave room for three desserts. There were little apple cakes with spices and custard, compote of red fruit and white biscuits and, at last, a life size marzipan lion, lying on the table. The king went and carved a slice out for her personally and Sansa was reminded of the feast after the Tourney of the Hand. Joffrey had sliced off meat for her back then. She would give everything to go back, take her father and Arya, and run to the North.

"You look unhappy, Mylady. Does something bother you?" The king asked, kindly enough, but there was a sharpness to his tone.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I have only a little tummy and I start feeling full." She smiled, hoping he would understand.

"Oh, I know what you mean. Men have a great appetite for everything. We women can only take some choice bites. I always wait for the best part of the meal and do not touch the simpler dishes."

Aliena smiled at her but there was an edge to it and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Hound lift his head.

"You women must go hungry often then. Few sweets and desserts are coming into the city at the moment." The first words he had spoken tonight, rasping and somehow angry.

Something glittered in her eyes, oddly triumphant.

"Oh, I do not only like sweets. I love nuts, too. Little nibbles here and there." Aliena looked at the new Kingsguard defiantly for a moment and then turned her attention to the king without allowing him a reply.

"How did you like it, Your Grace?" She put a hand on his arm. Joffrey had had a lot of wine, his cheeks were red and his eyes shining.

"Nothing could have been better, my sweet lady. Yet, you promised me gifts."

"And you will have them. Your Lady Mother will call everyone forth to give their king a gift."

Sansa felt a cold shiver. She had what Lady Aliena had given her but it made her feel uneasy. It was a cruel gift for herself but the lady had said that Joffrey would love it. It might spare her a beating or two. _You cannot worry about your brother now, or your mother. You are alone, sweetling. Only you count._

The Queen Regent rose and clapped her hands.

"Today is our noble King's thirteenth nameday. A great day for a man and we should all honour that day by giving him a token of our affection."

She went first, with a golden suit of armour, enamelled in red, set with more rubies than Sansa could count and covered with intricate carvings. A royal cape of ermine and red velvet hung from the back.

"An armour fit for a king." She said and Joffrey announced loudly that this was the suit of armour he would wear to his single combat with Robb Stark, the traitor. _It cannot protect you from my brother's wrath._

Others followed, with jewels, exceptional hunting attire, daggers, fabrics and other luxuries. Lady Aliena gave the king a horse, a white stallion that went well with her own. It was led in by a steward.

"A courser fit for war and hunt." she said, smiling her ususal sweet smile reserved for the king. The horse wore a saddle of leather and crimson velvet and on its back, a bow made from the golden wood from the Summer Islands, was fastened. Joffrey was very satisfied.

Sansa came last, on shaky legs, she walked over to the steward and took the parcel wrapped in red satin.

Then she strode over to Joffrey who stood in front of the throne to receive his gifts.

"I have not much, Your Grace." she said, softly as she hoped. "But I have decided to give you something of meaning. A sign of my loyalty."

Joffrey unwrapped the gift suspiciously. He held a heavy cloak in his hands, made from grey fur. Again, she recited the words of Lady Aliena:

"A cloak made from wolf fur, grey as that of my brother's direwolf. For winter is coming."

It was so silent in the hall that you could hear a pin drop. Joffrey looked at her, his brow furrowed, his gaze went over her shoulder. Would he call his gurads now to seize her? She feared for her life for a long moment but then - Joffrey laughed, loud and heartily. Relief filled Sansa's heart.

"The best gift, mylady." He kissed her hand. "A wolf's coat to kill a wolf. I promise, I will skin your brother's wolf and give you a cloak to match mine own." He put it around his shoulders.

"What do you think, will I be able to beat the traitor in the North in this gift from my betrothed?" he asked and all those that had a moment before held their breath assured the king loudly and joined in his laughing. Sansa felt the eyes of the courtiers on her but some few did not look to her but to the king's cousin who sat at the table, clapping and cheering as well. The queen's green eyes rested on her, a smile on her lips, Tyrion Lannister looked at her, thoughtfully, Lord Baelish with a half smile on his thin lips, Varys the Eunuch smiling sweetly and the Hound stared at her without expression but his eyes glittered weirdly. When he noticed Sansa was looking at him he turned to her and she turned her gaze elsewhere, to the cheering king at her side, who now went through his gifts again, in the best of moods.

The lady had had the right of it. He liked it, he was impressed with her. For a while, she would be safe, that was, until he grew angry again. Maybe these bruises would be faded by then.

Sandor

The Dornish red had gone to his head. He was drunk, too drunk for his own good. His thoughts wandered again where they should not wander. He forbade himself to think about her when he was more or less sober but he was beyond sober now.

She was clever. Very clever. And she wanted to protect the Stark girl. He was impressed in spite of himself with her cleverness. The king had been overjoyed with the gift, and danced more dances with the Stark girl than with his cousin, although she looked so good, much better than the little bird. He found it hard to take his eyes off her in that dress. She looked like the night sky, a lot of fuss and details but it was well worth it. The sparkling diamonds drew the attention to her chest, a nice view. He liked it when she wore her hair down like that, it reminded him of the Hand's Tourney when…

Today, she danced only with the king and her cousin, Balon Swann, the squarely jawed knight with a mop of sandy hair. The man liked her, Sandor saw that much, but he had little chance. _More than me, though._ He was a second son, called no lands his own and had only a small guard. Should his elder brother die though… The girl was always kind to him, not kind enough to rouse the king's jealousy but enough to keep her other cousin devoted to her.

Devoted to her like most men were. The only exceptions in the Great Hall were the eunuch and the imp. And himself, of course.

She thought he hated her. That was exactly what he had wanted her to think, yet somehow, it did not sit right with him. He remembered her words in the corridor, anger had spoken from her, frustration. He should not have grown so soft. She had shivered under his touch and that was still uppermost in his mind. _Why?_ For a second he thought he had glimpsed something in her eyes he had liked to see, he had liked too much. Then she had lowered her gaze and it was gone. Had it been wishful thinking? _Of course. She sure as hell does not desire you. You have heard her, she fucking hates you and she knows you return her feelings._ Yet...if he was honest to himself, he desired her despite himself. And yes, he loathed her. But there was something else laced with that, a completely different feeling... _It will not do to dwell on that. Just accept the bloody truth instead of looking for explanations. She has used you, she has manipulated you, how many reasons do you fucking need?_

But then she turned her head and smiled at him as he looked at her, the tiniest of smiles and he knew he was fighting a losing battle.

Sandor sat on his chair by the upper end of the table for a while as the dancing went on. Only old men and matrons remained at the table, them and the queen. _Only beasts and dotards remain._ he thought, bitterly. His bitterness was fuelled by a look at the dancing.

 _She_ danced with Ser Arys Oakheart, his sworn _brother_. He had sworn a vow ... but then again, so had he and he would break it for her anytime. Ser Arys made her laugh. He was quite handsome to look at, Sandor supposed. But did she really like that sort of man? Idle, vain, babbling like a fishwife. _Surely she'll like him more than you. Now stop staring at them, goggle-eyed fool._

"Good Ser, pray, you must forgive me. I am very tired." She took his hands off her waist. Sandor saw the reason for that soon. The king, his arm around his lady betrothed, stared at the two with blatant annoyance, his cheeks flushed from wine and anger.

The king was far too drunk. Aliena made her way to him alone as Ser Arys strode over to a chair at the table, opposite Sandor. He noticed that the knight's eyes were glittering with desire.

"She is a true temptation." He said to him, in a jovial tone but Sandor was not one for displaying comradeship.

"A true temptation that will cost you more than your life." He replied, gruffly and then ignored him. He watched Aliena talking to the king, he saw the boy's expression change from anger, to suspicion, to contentment. _She had him again. How does she do it? She is pretty enough but not that beautiful. Not even the old queen can do what she does. She has a way about her..._

"Dog, my lady is tired. Take her to her chambers." The swan girl walked at the king's side, her hand on his arm, a smile on her pretty face. Arys rose in his seat but a glance at the king's expression was enough to make him sit down again.

 _Coward._ Sandor rose as well.

"As you wish." The girl walked at his side, reqching only to his shoulder although she was tall for a woman. She had no problem to keep up with his quick pace on her long legs. Sandor felt his heart pounding faster in his chest. _The wine._ But he knew full well it was not the wine.

They had reached the serpentine steps, deserted tonight, and dark in the absence of moonlight. He hurried down them, eager to be over with this task that was so dangerous for him in such a different way. His heel got caught in his new white cloak and he had a moment to curse it before he fell -


	21. Chapter 21

**King's Landing, 299 AC**

 **Sansa**

In the morning, Sansa went for a walk with the king's cousin, Lady Aliena. As always, one of the king's white cloaked guards went with her. Today, it was Sandor Clegane again, who had treated her kindly sometimes and then on others he had been so cruel… Sansa tried not to look at his burns too often. This would be a nice day, a walk in the gardens, the late summer sun on her face. No Joffrey, no Cersei, at least for a while. Lady Aliena ws always pleasant and kind, and she tried to cheer her up with songs and stories and gossip. Sansa wore one of her prettiest dresses, a gift from the lady, fashioned in her style with the split front and visible underskirt. It had a low neckline but the undergown had a panel of golden organza that covered her cleavage to the throat. It had come with a golden necklace, a four leaf clover pendant, and the green of the enamelled leaves matched the colour of the overdress perfectly. The green went well with her auburn hair. When she came out into the yard though, followed by the Hound, she felt as if she might cry. Lady Aliena had waited for her and she wore a gown of black with a thousand tiny swans embroidered onto it in golden thread. Her underskirt was made of cloth-of-gold and Sansa caught a glimpse of gold at the seam of her sleeves as well. Her dark hair was pinned up under a low sitting golden hairnet and only a few soft curls framed her face. The usual swan comb ornated the braids at the back of her head. She wore her signature onyx and mother of pearl swan pendant on a golden chain. She looked older than six and ten, she looked like a proper lady.

"Ah, Sansa, my sweet." Aliena lady took her arm. "Shall we? The air is wonderful this morning but I there is a crispness to it...I think your house words have come true. What will you change them to once winter is here?"

She laughed and looked at her. Sansa knew no answer,

"But then again, winter will always come again. For some of us." They wandered through the gardens know, late summer roses on every flowerbed, red, blue, purple, even some golden ones.

"The king will grace us with his presence, too." Aliena warned her in a casual tone but Sansa suppressed a shudder. He had not beaten her in a while but she was still scared of him and she could not hide her hatred.

Sandor Clegane stood, his back to the wall, overlooking the gardens. The sight of his burnt face sent a chill down her back and she remembered what he had said on the way back from the tourney. A life ago but it was still burnt into her mind. _The king and his beast...and his cousin, too. Only I am the stranger here._

"Sandor Clegane scares you?" Aliena had read her expression again, her smile was mild but Sansa detected a mocking tone in her voice. It irritated her.

"Yes." she said defiantly."The Hound scares me, he scares most people. He is so _angry_ , his voice is frightening and his scars...He _enjoys_ killing, he said it himself. _Nothing sweeter than killing_ , that's what he said. "

"So he told you the truth. He did not lie to you."

"Yes, but he said-"

"Cruel things? I know." Aliena paused for a moment, lost in thought, a grim line around her normally smiling mouth.

"Little love, here in the capital, monsters do not always look like monsters. The most handsome face and the sweetest words hold more danger here than a burned face and a harsh truth. You will have to learn to sense with your mind, not just your eyes and your ears. You will have to start using that pretty little head of yours if you want to win this game."

"Win which game?" Aliena was about to answer when she heard Joffrey calling for them. Sansa turned around just to see the Hound standing far closer than she had thought. His face was an empty mask but in his eyes he saw anger when his gaze flickered to her. Joffrey had made his way through the gardens by then and kissed her cheek. With Aliena, he always played the gracious. She looked at him, he was so handsome that it hurt. _Lady Aliena has the right of it. He is the worst and he looks like a hero. The queen is beautiful, too and her words are sweet and kind but they have no warmth. It is them I have to fear, not the Hound. If he just didn't always look so gruesome…_

He did now, especially, standing behind them and throwing a shadow over all three of them. Joffrey took her arm, just where Ser Mandon had left blue bruises not a fortnight ago.

"Do you enjoy the summer in the South, Mylady?" he asked her, in his kindest voice. _A trap_. _I would sooner spend it in the North, if I only could._ Sansa felt a longing for the cold, grey stones of Winterfell.

"A lot, Your Grace. The flowers here are so beautiful." They passed by the roses again and Aliena said, sweetly:

"A golden rose would look so good in your hair, Sansa, dear." The king picked up the hint. Would he really pick a rose for her himself, venture into the thorny bushes? Of course not.

"Dog, I want a rose for my betrothed. A king should not ruin his garb but you wear mail and plate. Pick one, a golden one."

Sandor Clegane looked like he wanted to protest. He looked at them, for a long moment, his gaze flickering over all three of them.

"I thought ladies want their roses picked by knights." he said, the joyless sneer on his face.

Joffrey laughed, though.

"Picked by a hound and gifted by a king. Which lady could ask for more." Aliena smiled, but there was something else in her eyes. The Hound slogged through the rose bushes as the king stood in his fine red velvet and golden satin, with dyed-red leather boots that were so shiny they looked like fresh from the cobbler. Probably they were.

"I have thought about arranging a feast, with a dance. We have not had one since my nameday." Joffrey flinched. "My father held a merry court, why should mine be so dull?"

"My king, your father was a king in peace times. A different sort of man is needed for war. Once the usurpers are defeated, there will be a feast that lasts a fortnight. Jaehaerys and Alysanne held a long feast for their wedding, seven days and seven nights. Your wedding to Sansa will be a far more important event and demands a more imposing feast as well."

Joffrey liked that notion.

"Once I have defeated the traitors, we will feast for eight days and eight nights. When we marry, Sansa, it will be as the lady said." His grip on her arm tightened but Sansa tried not to let it show.

"I will be so happy, Your Grace, that a fortnight might not be enough." She saw appreciation in Lady Aliena's eyes, but she felt rather miserable herself. Heavy steps announced that _he_ had come back.

"Flowers wilt anyway." His voice was enough to sent shivers down her back. In his huge hand, the rose looked tiny and pitiful. Joffrey took it from his bare fingers and put it behind her ear.

"Your Grace, the thorns. You might hurt-" Aliena reached out to them.

"I removed them." Clegane looked at the garden wall. _How considerate._

"Oh." As Joffrey fumbled at her ear with deft fingers, Sansa saw that the Hound held a second rose, a dark red one in full bloom. He handed the flower to Aliena who looked at it with barely hidden surprise.

"One for each of the king's … ladies." He rasped, almost mocking, but Sansa felt that there was something else, something sad.

"Thank you." The lady took the bloom from him with her long white fingers, brushing slightly against his huge, calloused hand.

"You are bleeding." She motioned to his leg with her rose and Sansa saw it was true, red stained the white of his breeches, a little bit only.

"Not even a scratch." he snorted but she smiled.

"A wound taken for your king." Joffrey said, laughing at his own joke.

Lady Aliena seemed to find that very funny, too. She tucked the rose into her neckline, where it looked like a pretty brooch. Sansa caught the Hound smiling at that. Yet again, she had the feeling she was the only one who had not read the script in a stage play.

Sandor

He had given her a fucking _flower_. What kind of pansy had he become? He felt like banging his head on the nearest wall until it was as dented and bloody as the head of the Targaryen boy. Sandor stood at the foot of the Iron Throne, shame and embarrassment hot in his chest. What had he even thought?! _Ah, sure, now that I have given her a pitiful little_ plant _she will surely consider me. - I don't fucking want her to consider me. It was soppy and pitiful and weak. A_ rose _. As if I was some bloody knight from one of the little bird's songs. I am a beast, she said so herself. Beasts never get the maiden fair that much is true. No flowers, no touches, no looks, no words. This is getting too dangerous._ He had just vowed so when _she_ came in, flustered and red cheeked, a walking temptation. _Damn the Gods._ _Damn you._

The king sat on his sharp iron chair, but the Great Hall was mostly empty. A few lords and ladies stood, parading their attire and sharing gossip.

The girl was standing close to the throne, close to him now. She did not wear the rose anymore. _Threw it away, what did you think? Bloody fool. Thought she'd keep it under her pillow, the rose from the beast?_ Sandor almost snorted.

Aliena

He had given her a rose. Was he mocking her? Surely. He was not the type of man to give his lady a rose. _You behave like a foolish maiden. S_ he scolded herself. Yet, the flower that she had by now hung up to dry upside down on her bed post, had touched her. She had received her share of blossoms from admirers and courtiers but not one had picked it himself. _He did it because Joffrey told him to._ Yet, Joffrey had only spoken of one rose. And she would have never thought he would actually go. Pick a flower for the king. He was a guard and not a gardener. He had looked at her, before. Or had he? Maybe it had been Sansa he had looked at, so beautiful in green.

 _I should stop giving her gowns in which she overshadows me_.

Aliena put the flower on her nightstand, brushed through her hair and made her way to the Great Hall where the king's meagre court would await her. Soon, there would be a feast again, for Tyrion had promised Myrcella to a Dornish prince and the girl would soon leave them. Before the battle. He had tried to use her, too, marry her off to a Braavosi but Varys had intervened and told Cersei who, in turn, told Joffrey. After Tyrion had taken Myrcelly from her, Cersei had been adamant to keep Aliena close. _Varys has need of me, too, for the war to come._ She was almost certain that he intended to marry her to the Targaryen boy. _The boy who claims to be Targaryen._ Aliena was not so sure. And even if. There was no proof and she would not lose her head for a spider.

But that had time. She wanted Storm's End and the Stormlands, nothing more. _Nothing more?_ A little voice asked at the back of her head and she replied with particular emphasis: _Nothing more._

When she entered the hall, she saw that Sansa was still wearing her rose behind her ear. _Should have kept mine, too._ Yet, she had felt that the rose was something intimated, something she wanted to treasure. After a day in her corset, it would have lost most of its petals.

"Where is the flower I gave you, Aliena?" Joffrey demanded to know from his high chair. He had cut himself again, she saw.

"In a place of honour by my bed." she said, trying to keep her gaze on him but for a tiny moment, her eyes darted over to _him_. But he did not seem to look at her. It was hard to tell, with that horrible helmet.

Joffrey seemed to like that. He descended the steps from his throne, trying hard not to touch the sharp blades.

"I am utterly _bored._ " he said, like a little child. A bored Joffrey was always a more dangerous one.

"You-" he pointed at Ser Dontos. "-you were supposed to entertain me. It seems you are as useless as a fool as you were as a knight."

Aliena saw Sansa's eyes widen in horror. _She saved him._

Ser Dontos moved forward.

"Shall I punish myself, Your Grace?" he bowed and tried to hit himself with his own fit, but he missed every time. Some courtiers giggled and Aliena joined. Sansa did, too. For a moment, Aliena thought she heard _his_ laugh, hollow through the steel of his helmet.

Joffrey stared at them. Then he flinched.

"Go, you fool." he said and Ser Dontos was visibly relieved.

"Have dinner with me tonight, Aliena." Joffrey said, but it was no invitation, it was a royal command.

"Glady, Your Grace." She curtsied and smiled, although there was a knot in her stomach. He looked at her with an unconcealed hunger.


	22. Chapter 22

AxZi: First of all, thank you for your review. I will try and make Sandor more likeable. (I always like him, maybe that's my problem^^) The chapters are in chronological order and follow the storyline of A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings. The first chapter takes place before the first book, and I put in two flashbacks. The rest is (supposed to be) chronological. I am really sorry, I cannot understand your criticism. What do you mean exactly?

I will give the year and setting of every chapter, perhaps that makes it easier?

* * *

 **King's Landing, 299AC**

 **Aliena**

She was more than a little nervous when she made her way to the king's chambers. It was not only the way he looked her...She had expected to lose control over him for a while.

"Aliena." he was not pleased, she could hear it.

"Your Grace." she sank into a low curtsy that allowed him to have a good look. Him...and his sworn shield as well.

"You are late." She did not point out that he had no set a time.

"I beg your forgiveness, my sweet king. It is my vanity and wish to please you that delayed me." She rose from her curtsy and stood almost eye to eye with him. The Lannisters were a tall breed.

The boy king looked her up and down.

"You do please me...yet, not enough." _Why, cousin, to touch upon this topic before dessert. How improper._

"It grieves me to hear that." she walked over to the table, although she did not feel hungry anymore.

"It grieves me that you do not give yourself to me. You say I have your heart but I want you to prove it."

"By giving you my body."

It was what he wanted, and yet, that was the ace upon her sleeve, the only trump she still held. To give that up would mean to lose him.

"Yes. Some Aegon had whores, too." He saw her face. "Mistresses, I mean. The first one when he was fourteen. And older girl and she stayed with him all his life." _Until he took her daughter to bed._

"Aegon the Fourth. Yes. And you mean to take me to bed openly? Make me your whore?" The way she phrased the question told him that she was about to object.

"I do not have to ask you. I could tell my dog to tear that gown and tie you to my bed."

It took everything in her not to slap him across the face.

"You could." she agreed and looked at him, waiting.

"I want you to agree. I command you to say yes."

"As you pointed out, Your Grace, you do not need my approval. It seems I have lost your love and that grieves me. But I will forever love you. And I will obey. Take from me what you wish."

"Never say that again. I love you. You are mine." Aliena tried to ignore the cold feeling in her stomach. This was a road that she could not walk back up. And yet, she had to try.

"If you loved me you would not treat me as you do. But I am your loyal subject and I do not find it in me to deny you want you want."

 _Will he ?_ Did she still hold power over him? Was it still important for him to please her?

"Dog, leave us." Something died in her with his words. Sandor Clegane gave her a last glance as he closed the door behind him, and she thought there was pity in his eyes.

"Undress." There was blatant greed in his words.

Slowly did she undid the laces of her gown. A tear dropped down and darkened the red silk.

"Are you _crying_?" Joffrey exclaimed.

"No, Your Grace."

"You should be _happy_ , you fool." he almost shouted now. "I make you a woman now, Aliena." _It takes a man to make a woman._

"You make me a whore, Your Grace. Forgive me that I am not overjoyed of the prospect. I told you what this means for me and yet, you do not seem to care for me enough. My honour, my virtue, all that means nothing to you."

She arrived at the last laces, the gown gaped open at the back now. _Now, boy._

He ground his teeth. In his frustration, his otherwise handsome face was puffed and red as beetroot.

"I honour you." he insisted.

 _I have lost him. His affection for me is gone and all he wants is to possess._

"For the love you once bore me, Your Grace. Wait. You will marry within the year. What are a few moons?"

"I want you. Now." he looked at her for a few moments. "Why would I wait if I could have you now?"

"Because it would please me." There were times when that had been enough. But the boy was about to be a man, and he had a man's conscience.

She saw that the look of her convinced him more than her words. She walked over to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, put passion in this kiss that she did not feel, a longing.

"You will marry soon. And then, I will, too. Which man do you loathe, Your Grace?"

He looked at her, confused.

"The imp." _Great._

"Marry me to him, then. Take the first night that is yours by right. Send him away to rot on Casterly Rock. Take me to be your mistress, not your whore. Love me. Make me yours. The Tyrell girl will never love you like I do, will never give you what I can give you. She can give you princes...and I can give you pleasure. Take her for duty and me for passion. And I will not be remembered as the king's is all I ask of you, to wait, just a few moons. And everything I have will be yours. Will you do me the kindness, my king? My cousin?"

He looked at her, from head to heel.

"Kiss me again while I consider your request."

She did.

"I think I could wait. For your honour. And for my uncle." He chuckled. "Maybe the Tyrell girl is more comely than you?" he suggested. "Maybe I will want her, and not you then. You would never have me."

"I trust in Your Grace's feelings for me. They have been constant for a long time."

she said.

"You can dress."

She did.

"I will do as you wish because I like the notion. My uncle deserves to be humiliated. But you will need to remind me of your affection from time to time." _Kisses and touches._

"I will." she promised, and came closer, kissed the boy again, let him touch her. Then she drew back, out of breath.

"How much will my uncle hate it, what do you think?" he asked, his breath smelled of eggs.

"Marrying me? He loathes me, you know. He will hate it. But when you take his husband's rights from him-" she laughed. "He will be beside himself with anger. It will shame him greatly."

"Yes." he laughed. "He will never lie with you. I promise." he kissed her hand, suddenly playing the gallant again.

"It would not be fitting for you to share with a dwarf." she laughed.

"I will not share you with anyone. Once you're old, you can marry someone of my choosing. But as long as you are young and pretty, I want you to myself. A king will never share. Every man who wants you will lose his head for it. And you with him, if you -"

"Joffrey." she used his first name now. "There will never be another."

He nodded. "I would _not_ be pleased." Aliena understood that well enough.

"Dog!" he cried out, but no one came, so the king had to open the door himself and look for his guard.

"Come. You should always be with your king."

Sandor Clegane entered, his eyes darted to the bed, still made, to her gown, laced up properly, her impeccable face and hair, then to the boy king, still fully dressed, his crown still firmly on his golden curls.

"I am bored." The king announced. The food had grown cold on the table.

He rang the bell for the servants.

"Clear this away." he said.

"Your Grace, the people go starving. If you gave them your royal leavings…" She saw that his face grew hard again.

"Perhaps to the children, Your Grace."

"Are you an utter fool?" he asked her. "Have they worked for the food?" _Have you?_

"I will not give them _my_ food. If they are hungry, they should buy it, or work for it. I cannot abide the laziness of the smallfolk." He looked at her sharply.

"I have half a mind to send you down with a loaf of bread tied to your neck. They would rip you to pieces." They would. And she did not doubt that he was cruel enough for that.

"The lady has a woman's heart." The Hound rasped from the door. He did not wear his helmet but kept it under his arm. "All women are soft."

 _He tries to help me._ She noticed, with surprise.

"I often forget." The king said. "I forgive you for your silly words, my lady." He kissed her cheeks.

"I want to play a game of cards."

"Gambling, Your Grace?"

"Yes. I have learnt it. I have a card deck over there, Aliena. I want to play "King's Call". Can you play, dog?" He asked the tall man and Sandor Clegane gave a nod.

"Sit then. You don't have much to gamble with, so see that you do not lose." He gave a sharp laugh. He didn't laugh later. Sandor Clegane took the first two victories, Joffrey's gold and Aliena's jewels. In the first game, Aliena had lost to Joffrey and given him the kiss he demanded instead of her necklace.

In the second game, she had hoped Sandor would be wise enough to let the boy win, but once again, he played well and Joffrey lost to him, handing him a golden lion with emerald eyes this time.

"Beat him, Aliena. You have a better hand than I did." Joffrey stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder.

Her hand was not bad but the Hound had more experience. He looked not so much at her but at the boy behind her, who could not keep a straight face.

Aliena put her final card down, the golden rose, praying to the Seven that at least this time he would lose and Joff would be appeased- but he put his card down, a red rose, and Joffrey laughed.

"Ha." he exclaimed. "Not so much luck this time, dog."

Aliena turned around. "Gold beats red with the Queen, the King, the Knight, the Dragon and the Stag. But never with the rose. A red rose is worth more than a golden one."

She took her ring off her finger, a ruby cut in the shape of a heart, set in gold and surrounded by black diamonds.

"Will you take this as my wager?" she asked him. He did not even look at it.

"Keep your stones, swan." he rasped, about to rise.

"No." she remained firm. "You won the game fairly and I'll pay my wager. Will you take it or do you want something else?"

He stared at her with his cool grey eyes for a moment.

"I'll take it." She handed it over to him, inhaled too sharply when his warm hands touched her fingers.

"What is it, Aliena?" the boy looked at her from the side, suspiciously.

"His hands are cold." Apologetically, she looked up at the Hound.

"Sit down, dog. I want another game. I will help Aliena, this time. With my help, she won't lose again." He sat down next to her, his hand on her thigh.

This time, she was quicker about it, gave Joffrey no time to give them away with his face. Twice, she made a grave mistake and had to listen to the boy's complaints. It did not look good for her. She had won two rounds. He had won four. The seventh counted for three, though, King, Queen, and Knight. It was the most difficult part, with only high cards, and few of them. Dreams had shattered here after a successful game. And hers had not been so successful at all.

She had a black Queen, a good card but not excellent. She could beat queens, kings, and knights alike and was beaten only by the golden knight, by the golden queen and the silver, and all kings but the red one. Apart from that, her cards were not very good, but she hoped his hand was equally mediocre.

Four cards of the seven were played by now, and she kept her queen tightly in hand, however often Joffrey tried to make her take a knight or lower queen with it.

She put one of her knights out, a red one. Fish fodder, it was called in this round, because it was beaten by all cards. He took it with a golden queen. _His cards must be good if he can waste a golden queen on a lowly knight._

She played her silver knight, hoping to take his good cards from him, but he played a red queen and lost it to her. _Does he keep his trump card on his hand?_

The final card decided. They had both taken three. She knew that her chances were small. Maybe he would be happy with her hair pin, this time, apart from that, she had only her swan necklace, and that had been a gift from Joffrey.

He went first. And put down a black knight. _He had a golden queen and saved up his black knight?_

"Ha." Joffrey said, almost ripped the card out of her hand.

"The Lady beats the soldier of the same colour." she said, as she put her queen down but there was no joy in winning now that he had let her win.

"They are called Queen and Knight, Aliena." Joffrey said.

"I am no Queen and you are no knight, Clegane." she allowed herself a small grin. "Although I almost doubt the latter now."

He replied only with an angry look.

"What do you want, swan?" _You have no idea._

"Do you want your ring back?" he offered.

"I cannot take back my own wager." she said. She was just about to ask for something when Joffrey squealed:

"I won with her. And I demand my lion back."

Aliena noticed dismay in those clouded grey eyes for a moment but then, he handed the lion back over. Against the rules.

Joffrey turned is eyes to her with malice.

"You have not paid your full wager, Aliena." he said.

"In the first round, you gave me a kiss, but my dog won. You ought to give him one, too." _I would do it with pleasure but then you will have his head, cousin._ She had finally admitted it.

For a moment, the air was ice and full of tension although the king did not seem to notice. Then something came to her clouded mind.

"You took my kiss, because I lost to you. You lost to him, so it ought to be you who gives the kiss, Your Grace, not me."

Sandor roared with laughter but Joffrey did not find it so funny.

"I could make you." As much as she wanted to kiss him, she never wanted to do it as part of a dare by a sadistic thirteen year old. So she took his hand.

"Peace, my love." she said. "You have won it from him now anyway."

Joffrey looked at her without understanding. Then Clegane rasped:

"It's yours now. Her kiss."

It was a silly wager but it was a king's wish. She obliged, and it was a quick and wet. She turned her head when she heard his chair scraping over the floor. He had turned their back to them, made his way to his spot by the door.

"It is late by now, my love." she said. Joffrey seemed to like this form of address.

"You can stay here." he suggested, but she shook her head.

"Will you not remember my promise? Will you not remember your own?" she asked him.

"I never promised-" he started but she would have none of it.

"You gave me a promise, and I gave you a promise, and we sealed it with a kiss.

Good night, cousin." She kissed his cheek.

"I might give you a guard. So that you stay where you're supposed to stay at night."

Joffrey said, when she opened the door.

"You would imprison me, my love? I hope not." She did not believe he would.

"Be careful." it was an odd warning out of his mouth.

She curtsied and left but noticed that the Hound followed her to her chambers.

"I need no escort, Clegane." she said but smiled to take the sharpness from her words.

"The king thinks yes. Go, girl." She did.

"You let me win." For a moment he looked as if he wanted to protest.

Then he nodded. "The king played with you."

She smiled. "You shouldn't have, you'd be richer now."

He shrugged. "I don't care for that, swan." And somehow, she liked that.

"Do you want your ring back?" he asked.

"No. It will look better on you anyway." she japed and to her surprise, he laughed.

"I couldn't put it on my pinky, girl."

That was true, for her fingers were slender and his hands were huge.

"Keep it anyway, you won it fairly."

"You-" he started.

"Didn't." she finished his sentence. "Don't worry, I will. You will give me the chance to get even, surely."

"You're welcome to try." he snorted.

They reached her door. He stood right in front of her now.

"You didn't give him what he wanted." he said.

"No. Not fully." It was no triumph. Sooner or later, he would come and demand it again, and she would not be able to sway him then.

"He will take it at some point." he warned her. A harsh truth. She opened her door, and let it open for him to follow. Not everyone should hear this. He closed the door behind him. Aliena pulled out the pretty hairpin, and her hair cascaded down over her back. She shrugged, more relaxed than she felt.

"I made my bed myself, and then I will have to lie in it. With him by my side." she rubbed her forehead.

"Say it. It is fine. I disgust myself." she gave a little laugh. "I never wanted to be like _her_ , and yet, I have made a highborn whore out of myself." she sat down and gestured for him to take a seat, too, but he didn't.

"You are no whore, little swan."

"Not yet." The irony of it was almost funny. He had called her a whore once, a while ago.

"He will take it, if you do not give it. That is what happens when a lion desires a swan...and the swan sits in a gilded cage."

"I could have flown away a hundred times. Now, I pay for my stubbornness. The saddest thing is, I would still do the same way."

"You could still fly away." _Alone? A woman like me on the road? Without experience in the art of surviving?_

"Where would I go?" She asked. "I am a young woman without inheritance, without husband, without family. I am alone. Where would I go? All by myself? I would die on the way, or be sold and then killed by my beloved cousin." She shook her head. "I cannot leave, even if I wanted."

He made no reply, just looked at her.

"Well, maybe Stannis defeats us in the battle. Then I do not have to fear anymore. He will most likely spare me because I am his blood, but he will surely have my tongue out for all the lies I have told." She did not know what overcame her that moment. "You would like that, wouldn't?" It was a jest and she grinned, but he did not laugh back.

"No." he said. "I wouldn't. Be careful, swan. Or you end up with clipped wings."

"I just hope for a knight in shining armour to rescue me."

For a moment, she thought he wanted to say something. But then he made for the door.

"Your laugh will die on your lips, girl." he said, in an oddly sad tone to which Aliena had no reply.


	23. Chapter 23

King's Landing, 299 AC.

Aliena

"The traitor is dead." Joffrey's high boyish voice rang through the throne room. "Dead! Impaled by his own sword, some say. Because his own knights loathed him." He seemed to enjoy the thought.

 _The traitor was your uncle...and just as much of a usurper than you yourself._

Yet, she smiled and joined the applause that started in the Great Hall, as if it had been Joffrey himself who had slewn his uncle. _Kingslaying is in his blood, just as much as kinslaying._ His own mother had murdered his father without blinking.

"And my other uncle will follow him shortly." Joffrey announced, his voice was carried to the last corner of the hall. "I intend to challenge him myself, if the fighting brings us together."

 _If the fighting brings you together, you will die._

Varys had come to her in the small hours of the morning to tell her of her uncle's suspicious death. _Slain by a shadow._ he had said, and at first she had thought that he wanted to mock her. That was, until he told her his own story. _Can it be magic?_ All her life, she had believed that magic had existed once, when the children of the forest had still lived, before the Doom of Valyria. Sometimes, she had dreamt of the lands beyond Asshai, of the city itself with its dark walls and deserted alleys.

She had readily accepted that magic had existed and that magic still existed, beyond the Shadow, almost in a different world. But this morning, in her warm chambers, the morning light weak and grey, it had been ridiculous. Stannis, of all men...and yet, many agreed that the red woman from Asshai had conquered Stannis' iron heart, that he kept the woman by his side at all times. Her uncle had never been comfortable in the company of women. _Something must be different about this woman._ She had burnt the godswood of Storm's End, Varys had told her, something that did not fail to make her angry. _The Spider feeds me what he wants me to know._

And apparently, he wanted her to hate Stannis. Now, according to him, the red woman had made her uncle a kinslayer. _A kinslayer, a kingslayer, a wizard, and a madman._ She almost laughed at herself. _The Spider has brought me this far. I am ready to believe in sorcery._ And yet, the circumstances of Renly's death were more than strange. No man had entered his tent but Lady Catelyn and Brienne of Tarth, one of his sworn knights. Aliena did not believe that either had committed the murder. Catelyn Tully did have to boldness, no doubt, but not the unscrupulousness that such an act required. The metal of his armour had been pierced, Varys had said. _Varys had said._ Now, was what he said the truth?

Aliena had liked Renly, he had been funny and bold, had worried about little. Too little. He had claimed the throne without any rightful claim. And now, he had paid the price.

 _Was that worth it?_ If he had followed Stannis, as he should have, they would both be alive now and Stannis might sit the Iron Throne. Aliena looked up at the boy who sat it now and suddenly wondered whether she had really made the right choice. Stannis was cold and rigid as iron...but Joffrey was wildfire. _When you play the game of thrones, you win or you lose._ She had to retain her control on the boy. Whatever it cost. _How do you keep water from running through your fingers?_

* * *

A fortnight later.

Myrcella did not cry. She was the only one of Cersei's breed who was suited to her royal role. Tommen, the plump little prince, cried bitter tears for his beloved sister, Joffrey's farewell was as cold as the breeze from the sea.

The princess was not yet ten but already braver than either of her brothers. _Maybe the women are the strong ones. The Gods got it all wrong._

Aliena liked the little girl, and Myrcella her, although they had never been particularly close. Joffrey had always been between them, Joffrey and eight years.

"Farewell, Myrcella." she kissed her cousin on both cheeks. "May the winds be in your favour. Send some spices up from Dorne with your letter."

Myrcella smiled.

"I will write to you, Aliena." she looked at Joffrey. "And to you, too, brother."

The king shook his head. "I am king now, and very busy. Aliena will tell me everything I need to know."

 _As I always tell you everything._ Today, Joffrey was in a foul mood. He had no reason to be, not a particular reason, at least. but he was, and that was all she needed to know.

"I will." Aliena curtsied to the princess and left the ship to wait for her king.

Sansa was pretty in aquamarine silk, her hair flowing over her back under a net of moonstones. She grew more beautiful with every passing day.

Aliena chatted to her for a while, they talked about the blue sky, the name of the ship, the weather, how much they would miss the princess. Then, Cersei called. She stood with Lancel Lannister, her new favourite, and looked at the departing fleet.

"This could be you, Aliena." she said. _What does she want?_

"I am happy it is not me, Your Grace." she replied. Cersei nodded.

"So am I." _Yet, you would have swapped me for her any moment, if you could._ Aliena did not even blame her. Myrcella was her own daughter, after all.

"My brother wanted to give you to some Braavosi, did you know? You would be there now, in a strange city where they speak some bastard dialect of Valyrian. A foreign husband, a foreign city, a foreign language. A marriage here would be so much more convenient, don't you think?" Lancel at her side smiled. _Not him. I'd rather marry tongueless Ser Ilyn than him._

"Most convenient would be no marriage at all, Your Grace." She smiled sweetly. _Most convenient for you, too. Your son might have to make use of my claim one day._ The rumours about his parentage were out there, and no one could ever take them back.

Cersei looked at her suspiciously. But she did not find anything.

"I fear convenience is something that we have to give up in these most turbulent times." was all she said. _Has she promised me to him as a reward?_ Lancel was mad with desire for the Queen, he would never consent to marrying her. Aliena turned around. Tyrion stood at her elbow.

 _A show for him._ _A show to cover up her own affair._ Aliena felt relief warm in her chest.

"We shall ride back." The Queen decided once the sails of Myrcella's fleet were no more than tiny dots on the horizon.

Aliena mounted her filly, a mare now, in fact. Syrax was still swift as the wind and more beautiful than all the others.

She rode next to the Queen, on Cersei's other side her young knight, the three of them were flanked by Ser Boros and Ser Meryn. _The worst of the Kingsguard, does she not see?_

The streets were crowded but quiet. For every man who hailed the king, a hundred others remained silent.

Suddenly, a woman detached from the crowd, a woman with something in her arm, blue, deformed... _A baby. A dead baby._ There was pain in the woman's eyes, and horror, and madness. Sansa said something to Joffrey and the king flipped her a coin but the woman showed no reaction.

"Leave her, Your Grace." Cersei said from next to Aliena and she would have loved to press her fingers over the Queen's pretty mouth. "She's beyond our help, the poor thing." The sympathy in her voice was parchment-thin and as false as her smile. But somehow, the Queen's voice seemed to reach the woman, wake her up. With huge, crazy eyes, she turned to Cersei and Aliena saw disgust mingle with fear in the Queen's eyes.

"Whore!" The woman screamed. " _The Kingslayer's whore! Brotherfucker brotherfucker brotherfucker!_ "

Out of the corner of her eye, Aliena saw something dark fly- and land. Joffrey's hair was crusted in dung, Sansa had a huge brown splotch on her thigh.

 _Ride on, you fool. Don't stop._ She saw hungry eyes around them. Were they only hungry for bread? _We have left them alone. We are well fed while their children die from hunger. We wear our finery while they wear rags._ She could understand their hatred. And that scared her. _If I were them, I would want to kill us all._ She herself was popular amongst the smallfolk but she doubted that that would count much here.

"Who threw that?" Joffrey balked. _Oh Gods have mercy._ She tried to shout over to him, tried to reach him from behind but he was deaf and blinded by fury and the shouting masses around them did not help.

"Dog, bring me the man who threw that." And Sandor Clegane dismounted in the middle of a mad crowd. Aliena was not sure whether she should admire his courage and loyalty or whether she should curse him for his foolishness. _Don't do it. Get back on your horse._ But of course, he didn't. Stones were thrown, dung and foul fruit, too rotten to be edible. Something soft hit her head but she did not care to look what it was.

From behind her she heard the imp shout: "Back to the castle. _Now._ " Sandor still stood next to his riderless horse, his sword raised but he fought a losing battle. _He will die._ She thought, but there was nothing she could do, her horse moved with all the others and she could only stare at him with fear in every bone as they galloped past him, driven by the horses behind them. _Don't die. Please, Gods, show mercy. Do not let him die. Father, don't take him. Warrior give him strength. Mother, give him your protection._ She would have asked all Seven for their help but a hand closed around her ankle, and another around her wrist and she was ripped from her saddle, one foot still in the stirrup. She kicked it lose. _Better than being ripped in two._ She hung in people's arms, felt how her dress was moved up by some, how others felt for her pouch, and others again just wanted to hurt her, kicked against her stomach, tore at her arms-

"Stop! That is the white lady. Stop in the name of all gods, she saved my boy." Aliena felt how the kicking stopped and she was pulled to her feet ungently.

A man looked her in the face, pox scarred. She recognised him. "Joe." His son had caught the same pox, just that it was even more deadly for children. She had brought down ointments and herbs, and the boy had recovered.  
"Come, Mylady. It is not safe for you here."

Hands still tugged at her gown but she was pushed away by more hands now. _Oh Gods, thank you for him._ Pox-faced Joe and a few others, some of which she recognised, shoved her into a dark alley unceremoniously. Before the dark surrounded her, she saw _him_ in the distance, and Sansa's flaming red hair. He had his sword raised and cut off some man's arm. _He protects her._ She wanted to be happy about it and she was relieved that Sansa was alive but she could not suppress the jealousy in her. _Stop it. That is folly. You are safe enough, no reason to be ungrateful._

"Come, lady." In the midst of the smallfolk, she was brought to a house, small and dirty, one room that was half the size of her bedroom.

"Wait here until the fighting is done, lady. My good brother lives here. He is a smith." Aliena would have guessed as much.

"I cannot thank you-" she started but now he spoke up.

"There's no one in that keep who has ever so much as lifted a finger for us, lady. You've saved my boy, aye, and you've done these kindness as well." The people around them nodded. It were no more than half a dozen, she noticed. _Half a dozen that like me against the hundreds that hate me._

"We have no' much to give, lady. Today, we can."

"It should not have come to this." was all she could utter.

"The boy is a bad king." She was supposed to object, supposed to defend Joffrey. _Dog cut through them and bring me the man._ He had not only risked his own life. Without even the smallest moment of consideration had he been willing to sacrifice Clegane for his hurt pride. Sacrifice all of them.

"I ask your forgiveness. And I am forever grateful. You saved my life."

"There is nothing _you_ have to ask forgiveness for, girl." Another man said. "Joe has 'e right o' it, you've done us more kindness than any o' them."

She sat down on the bench with Joe's boy, a skinny thing of six or seven. _What can I give them to end their pain? To end their starvation? I have only gold and what good does that do them?_ _They cannot eat gold, nor drink it._ _All they want is peace and food and health for their children._ And she could give them nothing.

Tyrion

They had made it through the gate. The madness was still there, though, waiting outside the castle walls. _When will it stop?_ he wondered. With bread and salt? Or would only a king's rolling head be able to calm them? _They can have Joffrey's, for all I care._ It had been the boy who had put them all into danger.

"Where is Aliena?" the boy shouted now, his voice high-pitched in fear. "And where is my dog?" _Dead, both of them._

"You lackwit. You fool!" he shouted, unable to hold himself back. "You killed them both, them and the Gods know how many more, yet you come through unscratched. _Damn you._ " He kicked him, again and again,until Bronn held him back and Ser Mandon helped the king up looked around. Aliena's white mare danced around in the yard, without a scratch but without a rider, too. _I don't care much for the girl...but hells have no fury when she died._ Joffrey had a queer sort of affection for her and he would know no rest until she was found or her killers were put to death. He looked around and noticed that someone else was missing, too.

"Where is Sansa?"

Joffrey babbled something, Cersei spoke, but their meaning was clear. _Gone._ If harm came to her...

"Find me the Stark girl, now-" he ordered but Joffrey interrupted him.

"There she is!" he shouted.

Sandor Clegane rode through the gate on a chestnut courser, his cloak was torn and bloody, there was a gash in his sleeves and blood seeped through the fabric. Behind him sat Sansa Stark, her arms tight around the Hound's chest. She bled from a cut at her temple and her eyes were wide with shock.

Sandor Clegane lifted her from the horse.

"The little bird's bleeding. Someone take her back to her cage and see to that cut."

The girl stumbled away with Maester Frenken.

"They did for Santagar." The Hound reported. "Four men held him down and took turns bashing at his head with cobblestones. I gutted one, not that it did Ser Aron much good."

Lady Tanda apporached him with fearful eyes.

"My daughter-"

"Never saw her." The Hound glanced around the yard.

"Where's my horse? I promise, if something happened to that horse, someone's going to-" He stared at the white mare that still ran free.

"Where is the swan girl?" Sandor Clegane's eyes searched the yard. "She was ahorse, she rode away-"

"I command you to go back and find her." Joffrey was almost crying. "If something happened to her, I swear-"

Tyrion found it hard to imagine that nothing had happened to her. Flames licked at the sky in the distance. _Fire_.

"I'll go." Sandor Clegane said, Sansa's horse already wheeled around. "I need to find that horse. I'll look for your little pet as well."

Sandor

Sandor dared not think about what might have happened to her. He had seen her riding away, her cousin defending her. He had never thought that she might fall off her horse. He had not thought that she would be- He saw a woman's body at the side of the road, a gown more red than white. His stomach turned and twisted. _Please, no._ He found himself praying. _Not her._ He reached the corpse. It was a septa. Warm relief filled his chest.

He led Sansa's courser down the main road, cutting away men and women alike. _I have to find her._

He saw her from the distance, at least he thought it was her, still in a white dress. At her side stood a horse, huge and black and saddleless. _Both at once._ It was an odd image, she stood in front of a low shack, all alone, the fighting going on around her. He reached her soon enough.

"Your horse is a wild one." she greeted him. "They tried to make a sausage out of him but he did not agree." Stranger wore no saddle, only headgear, and stood at her side peaceably. That was odd enough.

"You are presumed dead." he replied but she only smiled.

"They dragged me off my horse by my ankle but they did me no harm. A man hid me in his house and his wife offered to share their food with me. No one here means to do me harm." Indeed, her gown was hardly dirty, her hair still half-pinned up. _She was lucky, that's all. The right people found her._ He didn't want to think about what would have happened had the wrong people found her. There were more of that sort here.

Her necklace was gone, he noticed, as he looked her up an down. She followed his gaze.

"No doubt someone will be able to pay dinner for his children." she said. _You could have paid a different, girl._

"You couldn't ride him." he noted.

She stroked Stranger's forehead.

"We're not so far." She was gentle with him and he liked that.

"He has bitten a few faces off for that."

"Not mine, though. That is my luck, I must admit, I like my face the way it is."

 _So do I._

"Is my filly safe?" she asked. She still called the mare her filly.

Sandor nodded. "Come, girl."

In the same moment, they heard a woman cry out loud. For help. He only needed to look at her face to know that she would not leave. The woman cried again. He pulled Aliena up with one arm until she could sit in front of him. She swung on leg over the horse's head and the dress rode up almost to her thigh. _They will try and drag her off the horse for that alone,_ he thought while he directed the horse with his other hand. Stranger followed them like a shadow.

He spurned the little bird's courser into a quick gallop and directed her up the high road. Not into the alley.

"No." she almost ripped the sleeve of his tunic. "Don't you hear her? She needs help."

 _Aye. She does._ But he knew, if he went back, that would be their end. The city was boiling. There was still fire everywhere, fighting, raping, butchering. He was one man with a sword against thousands with stones and fists. And he would not endanger this girl for the safety of another.

"You can't help her, swan."

"You could. You could ride back and cut through them. You did it for Sansa, I saw you. You can't just _leave_ her-"

Her bidding tone cut through his heart. Most knights would do as she bid, if they were no utter cowards. But Sandor was no knight and he wanted to protect her, even if that meant to make her angry. Even if that meant that she thought him a coward.

"I ride back and cut through them, and all the while, someone cuts through you, swan. Your fine dress is no armour, little swan, and you cannot fly." She tried to wriggle herself free but he held onto her with an iron grip.

"You can't help everyone, girl. It's time you learn that."

"She might die because of you."

"Others have died because of me, girl, hundreds, maybe more." Did she not know who he was or had she forgotten?

"Not like this." she insisted.

"What do _you_ know." he replied. A foul tomato ended their discussion. It landed on her gown, soft and mushy, with worms and mould, and left a bright red spot on her chest.

"You might be their white lady, little swan, their Maiden Come Again. You might give them alms and bring them food, bless their children and listen to their worries. But you wear fine dresses and pretty jewels, eat from the royal table and sip wine from golden goblets while they feast on rats, drink from the sewage, and bury their children in tiny graves. Most of them loathe you just as much as they loathe their king right now."

She said nothing for a while. The gate was already in sight when she spoke again.

"Thank you."

He only grunted in reply.

"Aliena!" The boy king was washed and swaddled, and waited by the gate.

"Where _were_ you?" he demanded to know.

She glided down the horse's side.

"Forgive me, Your Grace. I was pulled off my horse not far from the gate. But nothing happened to me. Your dog saved my life." She lied for him.

"I didn't." he insisted, as he rubbed Stranger dry but the boy didn't listen.

"You smell, Aliena. You should bathe." _No doubt he wants to join you, girl._ The boy king was soon a man. And he wanted her, more than any other. _Why, don't I, too?_ he thought, sourly.

She walked to the stables with him to look after her horse. Once she had made sure that the mare was fine, she made for the Holdfast. At the stable door she turned around.

"Someone should see to that cut."

Sandor shook his sleeve back over his wrist.

"Take your bath, girl." he said. She looked at him for a long moment, held his gaze. But then she turned around without another word.


	24. Chapter 24

King's Landing, 299 AC

Cersei

The Stark whelp had her first flowering. Set her bedding on fire, the little fool. Cersei did want to allow Joff to show her her place- but Aliena had swayed her.

"She's a little girl, Your Grace. She is alone and has neither courage nor much sense. Joff would break her, and you still have need of her, dear aunt." That was true enough. So instead of having Joffrey deal with her, Cersei had welcomed the little idiot in her chambers. Had shared her most important principle with her. _Love no one but your own children._

Aliena sat in her solar with her now, did her stitches with neither enthusiasm nor with joy, but did them all the same with precision and speed, because her queen had asked her to. _She is one of my own … almost._ The queen noticed with some shock. Somehow, the girl that had been Robert's niece was now her own kin as well. _She is much like me._ And the girl was nothing like Robert.

Ten years ago, more or less, had she come, a child with the Baratheon colouring, although her eyes had always been too green. Back then, her hair had been darker as well. Cersei had been suspicious and at first, she had been a true Baratheon, wild and willful, with unkempt hair and dirty feet, and a voice louder than her own. But the older she got, the more she grew to be like her aunt: She had never had much interest in sewing but soon, she had worn the dresses Cersei had given her and Robert had showered the girl with jewels and fabrics. She still loved to ride but she wore a proper riding habit now and rode in a woman's saddle. She had started to play the harp and sing.

Cersei still remembered how the girl had come to her, ten years old, to ask her whether she could maybe show her how to dance and curtsy with grace. At first, the girl had been no more welcome than a fly in her soup until she had remarked once, carelessly, that she always got everything she wanted from her uncle. And Cersei saw how useful that could be.

She had used that for her own good and over time, she grew to understand what Joffrey found in the little girl. She was quick to learn and had the eagerness to please that many orphans shared. Sweet was her nature but also cunning and she was of unwavering loyalty, especially when it came to Joff. Cersei had whispered into the girl's ear that it was her mother Robert saw in her and her mother he loved in her. And then, she was her little niece, as much as Robert's.

The girl's mother. She looked much like her. Apart from the eyes... Aliena's were strange but also her most remarkable feature, while her mother's eyes had been Baratheon blue.

Cersei remembered Alyssa Baratheon well, haughty and proud, with a harsh outspokenness and a backbone of steel. She had been wild and passionate, a true Stormlander. It had been her that had spoken up against her marriage with Robert. Cersei hated her with a fire red and hot.

" _The woman is a bribe, Rob. And a king should never be bribed."_

Yet, Robert, the drunken old fool, had been bought so easily with gold and a pretty cunt and Alyssa had returned to Storm's End, a day after the wedding and never returned to the capital. She had told Cersei before the wedding that Robert would never love her and never keep to one bed.

Even now, Cersei hated her for having been right. She remembered her eyes, cold and blue, as they stared down at her. Aliena was tall, too, but prettier. Alyssa had been called beautiful by some, but she was never renowned for beauty. Pretty she had been, but not so special.

 _I was more beautiful than her and she was jealous._ But Cersei could just not bring herself to believe that.

 _Her daughter is more beautiful than her and unlike her in character._ Yes, Aliena had grown up to be much like herself, she found.

Bold, daring, brave. Cunning and clever and ready to use what the Gods had given her. She would have made a fine lord, just as Cersei would have made a fine king. And Aliena thought of her as a mother figure. She had said that she was like an elder sister but Cersei had read that plain enough. _Alyssa's daughter looks to me as a mother._ That gave her a strange sense of satisfaction. Robert had never been a father for her, had never been able to see what was underneath the prettiness: Iron. She wanted the keep that was never hers, that passed from uncle to uncle but never to her mother. Robert had thought she was home-sick. Cersei had known that she was sick of being ruled by men. _Not now, though, sweetling. We women rule now. Through Joff._

Aliena loved Joffrey. For that, Cersei would forever be grateful. At first, she thought the girl pretended. Her golden boy was difficult to be quite honest. But she had seen how Aliena looked at him when she thought nobody looked at her, she knew everything Aliena had hidden to protect him. She had seen all the bruises the girl had worn until they had faded away, without complaint or comment. Joff loved her, too, as much as he was able to. A possessive, jealous love, maybe, but if he listened to someone, it was her. He spent days with her, nights, riding trips and hunts. Cersei did not know all the secrets they shared and sometimes, it made her jealous. But the girl was hers and would tell her whatever she wanted to know, tell him everything Cersei wanted her to tell. And a king was better off listening to his beloved than to his mother. Maybe, she would be his wife one day.

 _She can ask Joff what I can't. Maybe for her, he will stay._

"Aliena. Come here, sweetling."

And the girl put aside her needle and came, sat on the lower chair and looked at Cersei with expectant eyes.

"The king is intent on fighting in the battle. And that is what a king should do. Fight, and show himself. Maybe, after he has shown himself, it would be safer if he came back into the keep. Yet, Joff would need a reason, and there is nothing I can tempt him with…" It did not take her long.

"I will do my utmost, Your Grace. The king is still young and young men sometimes have to be protected from their own bravery."

She got up, curtsied, and left the royal apartments with swirling skirts. If Aliena could not move him, no one would be able to.

Aliena

There was only one thing that could possibly convince Joffrey to stay in the Holdfast during the battle. But Aliena was more than unwilling to give it.

 _I have to try or I will lose Cersei. He will refuse, he will._ She clung to the thought like a drowning man to a plank of wood.

"You should smile, Aliena. Soon, your uncle will die." _It is your uncle, too._

She smiled though.

Joffrey tried on his new suit of armour, so shiny and heavily decorated that he looked more like a statue than a warrior. _It is not for fighting, it is only for show._

"Your Grace, it is worry for you that stops me from smiling. I am only a woman and the trials of war scare me."

"I will defend you, Mylady. You have nothing to worry." _If it was only you who protected me, I'd jump out of the window._ The spikes in the moat were long and sharp.

"Will you really have to be outside?" she asked, reluctantly. Cersei thought her her obedient pawn and Aliena did want to keep that impression up.

"A warrior king goes where the fighting is thickest." The king looked at himself in the huge silver looking glass.

 _Not you, then._ She caught a look from Clegane, motionless by the door in soot-grey, plain steel.

"I thought...maybe you could protect me inside the keep. In here. Just you and I, no guards, no servants, no one. While outside, the war continues and the enemies die."

He was tempted, she saw.

But Sandor Clegane destroyed the Queen's plans.

"A king does not hide in the keep with women." he said, scornfully. _You spoke out of order, Hound._ And yet, she was … thankful.

Joffrey sniggered like a girl.

"There you have it, Aliena. Even my dog thinks so." _Your dog is the fiercest warrior you have._

"You can wait for me though, when I come back, bloody and victorious. I heard most men have a hunger for women after battle. Is it not so, Dog?"

The Hound just shrugged. _He never raped, or no tales of it ever reached us._ She could not imagine it, anyway. He was too proud for rape and too honest for plunder. _He's not too proud for whores, though._

"Your Grace will celebrate your victory with a wedding. Your bride would not thank me."

After the battle, if the Gods sustained the king, Joffrey would seal an alliance with a wedding. If the Gods were good, Littlefinger would bring the Tyrells with him. If the Gods were not good, it didn't matter anyway. Without the Tyrells, without Lord Tywin, the battle was already lost. Stannis was no Renly, he had made that much clear, and he had a vast host. In the city, cowardice and treason were the enemy, a flighty enemy and therefore very dangerous.

"My council urges me to marry. But I am the king. I will decide. And my bride will thank you if I tell her to. It might be Sansa, or maybe my dead uncle's whore. Why would I take another man's leavings?"

It was not time yet to try and convince him of Lady Margaery's advantages. Otherwise, he would be disappointed should the match not be made. And disappointment was something Joffrey did not bear well.

"Where are you going to fight, Your Grace?" In this moment, smoke surrounded the keep like a lover's embrace and Aliena was full of fear.

Should Stannis win, he would not have them alive, that much had Cersei made clear. He may not win. Everything she had built up would be torn down within moments should he become king. He would marry her to some Lord, most likely to her cousin, Donnel, and then, she would forever look at Storm's End from afar, and wonder how her life would have gone had her uncle not intervened.

"I will give my uncle a nasty welcome." Joffrey declared, sniggering.

"Come, Aliena, touch it. It is the finest suit of armour in all Seven Kingdoms. More costly than your life." he laughed as if he had made a good jape.

The metal was smooth and cool under her hands, she felt the red enamel and the intricate engravings, the gemstones, rubies and emeralds.

"I just hope that it protects you well, Your Grace." she said.

The boy king snorted. "I don't need a suit of armour to protect me when I have this here." He drew his sword.

"Kiss the blade, Aliena. They shall all fear your kiss." he laughed again. "Heartsbane, I named it." _A silly name._

"A good name, Your Grace."

Cersei would not like this at all. She would want her precious firstborn by her side, safely hidden behind Maegor's strong walls. But a king belonged outside the walls where his men could see him and draw strength from his courage. Even if the king was as cruel, and vicious and utterly without judgement as Joff. _She will have to accept that he is no longer a boy._ He was growing into a man twice as bad as Aerys, and just as bad as Maegor.

She left the royal apartments with a heart both heavy and light. Outside, the sky was grey and terrible, and it did nothing to lift her spirits. Her uncle smoked them out.

But the smoke was not the worst. She could practically smell the fear, it lay thick in the air and covered them all, muted happiness and enthusiasm and left only an uneasy feeling in the guts. _Gods, let Joff win._ Maybe the imp had a king up his sleeve. Maybe he would be able to defeat Stannis with some clever trick.

She stood in front of the window, the spikes sharp and pointed in the moat underneath. _If not, then this was all for nothing._

* * *

Next chapter is going to be about the battle! I might need some time for that.

Also for those who follow We Are All Sinners Here, I have started to work on the next chapter, it should be up at the start of the next week. I work on The Hound and The Maiden Fair again, too.


	25. Chapter 25

Hey! This is the chapter of the battle...I am not a hundred percent satisfied, mainly because I just cannot write fighting scenes.

Please let me know what you think. I am also working on the next chapter for We Are All Sinners Here and The Hound and the Maiden Fair. They should be up later this week.

 **ShinyRedPenny, Hiimawesomehowaboutyou:** I thank you very much for your reviews and your continuous support! I am truly grateful. It really keeps me going.

 **Nyany4:** Thank you so much for your review! Actually, this is the story I write because I did not like to seperate them. ;)

Apologies therefore: I had to alter the events of the battle a bit. I do not like doing this but I was kind of forced to. I hope you all still enjoy it.

Thank you.

* * *

The Day of the Battle

King's Landing

Aliena

The sky was grey as lead, clouds hung low and the air was as cold and sharp as an Other's breath. Aliena felt the fear like a physical pain, and it was an epidemy. Highly contagious. Conversations were always low and hushed, people looked at their feet rather than at each other. _This is the stuff that betrayal is made of._ And Cersei supported that instead of lifting the spirits. She was always cruel and unyielding where she should have been kind and forgiving.

"Aliena!" Joffrey was in the courtyard with the other men, dressed in his fine suit of armour. The sounds around them, the clattering of hooves, the nervous whicker of some scared horse, the high, cold sound of metal on metal, made her feel anxious.

 _I am the blood of old Stormkings._ She tried to calm herself. _So is uncle Stannis._ It was not so much death she feared. She _would_ die if Stannis broke through the gates, not at his hand but at Cersei's. She would never allow her to go over to him. Aliena had chosen her road and she would have to pay, unless she found a way to save herself. No, it was not her death that she feared. In fact, she did not think they would lose. The city walls were strong and she believed that Littlefinger would come, join the battle late, save the city, and be the hero. Stannis would execute him for treason, no doubt, even if he went over to him with all the rose banners behind him. Robb Stark had little love for traitors, too, and Littlefinger would never make it past Lord Tywin. No, they would win, of that she was quite sure. This was not a game of swords, this was a war of minds, fought with schemes and plot and ruses, and that was something she understood.

What she feared was that some would not come back. Her cousin, Balon. She would grieve for him. Joffrey. If he died, all seven hells together would suddenly seem pleasant compared to Cersei's company. The Queen would blame her for not being able to hold him back.

But what she feared most was …

She would not admit it, not even to herself. But she found herself praying for him, to the Warrior, the Mother...and to the Stranger, to give his namesake and his namesake's rider strength and to refrain from welcoming them into his dark halls.

"Your Grace. I wish you good luck although you won't need it, I am certain." Aliena forced herself to be positive.

"My sword was blessed by you and by Sansa. If I lose, I'll blame you." she was not certain whether he was joking or not. She decided to smile.

"You will not lose." she said. Her cousin kissed her but she managed to break free quickly.

"I will expect a warm welcome on my return. You can kiss your uncle's head first...I will give it to you on a pike." _What am I supposed to say to that?!_

"Your Grace is kind but surely you would not like to share my kisses with a dead man."

A huge shadow was cast over them both and she knew it was him before she turned around.

Joffrey called a squire to help him onto his horse and Aliena used the moment to talk to his Sworn Shield.

"I prayed to the Gods that they will protect you." she said, and noticed at the same time how foolish and hollow it sounded.

"As you pray for him, huh?" The Hound nodded at Joff who hung on his horse like a bag of flour.

"If there were any Gods, girl, they would not protect the likes of me." he snorted. "Save your breath, little swan. You will need it when your uncle comes for you."

"I won't need it when my uncle comes for me." was all she said but the look he gave her was full of questions.

"What do -" he started but the king shouted.

"Dog! Come! Or do you want to stay here?" he sniggered and Sandor Clegane walked past Aliena but not without a last, lingering look.

The men left the keep and only those who were unfit to fight remained. The silence had never been more frightful- and the sept had never been more crowded. Aliena lit a candle for _him_ , a candle for his horse, a candle for Joff. She was unsure why she still did it. It had never done anyone much good. Her uncle had died anyway, Ned Stark had died anyway. Her mother had died. The Gods were truly grasping… but yet, she believed in them. For everything they had taken, they had given, too. And she did not want to be unthankful.

Back in Maegor's holdfast, she joined Cersei in the Queen's Ballroom. The Queen wore white today, just like Aliena, and she looked stunning in it- stunning but pale. The wine brought colour to her cheeks, though.

"Aliena. Sit here with us." Sansa Stark sat at the Queen's right as Joff's betrothed but she seemed unenthusiastic about her place of honour.

Aliena did not listen to the Queen's conversation with Sansa. She had a look around the hall. There was no better time to find out things about people. They were scared, nervous. They would give too much away. She got up and walked around. Few touched their food. Most of them drank. _A drunk woman is easier to rape._

The Kettleback came in, his face full of worry. Aliena hurried back to her place at the Queen's side. This was her chance to get out.

"Your Grace. Do I have your leave to go and pray?" She looked at Cersei with sharp eyes. _Understand._ Joffrey would come back. She would be there and calm him down. She would look for him the the yard. Joffrey would be brought into the holdfast without seeing her. Cersei would close the gate and not open it again, not for her niece. Aliena would be free. As for Ser Ilyn...well, should Stannis really manage to break the gates, should he manage to take the city, then Ser Ilyn would be able to use Ned Stark's sword for Ned's daughter...but not for her. She would wait for her uncle...and live.

Aliena hurried up the stairs to the outer walls. From here, she could overlook the fighting. The men paid her little heed.

She looked over towards the mouth of the Blackwater. It was alive with a strange green light...flickering and twitching- _fire._ That was not good at all. _He will desert._ Of course he would. Aliena almost flew down the stairs and ran over to the stables. He would take off his horse's armour, he would need a new saddle. She would wait here for him - and hide from Joffrey.

Sandor

He felt as if he had a fever, his mind was blurred, his body was on fire or at least it felt like it. He couldn't think straight. The flames were everywhere, some green, some red. But all of them were hot and crackling, a promise… He would go back in. Take her and leave. _She wouldn't go. She would never._ He could take her. She was only a girl. _You couldn't. You wouldn't._ She would stay - and he would go. He could not stay here, even if it meant to leave her behind. _What will the boy do to her?_ He shook his head. _I asked her. She would not leave._ The Stark girl was on his mind now, meek and obedient and homesick. He could take her home. Bring the bird back to the wolves, she would thank him...Aye, and the wolves would, too. _Wolves are better company for a dog anyway._

He guided his horse up to the keep, allowed no doubt to infiltrate his fire was only a shadow here...but Sandor remembered it too well. He still felt dizzy, his senses were dull. There was no place for him here now that everyone knew what he was afraid of…. _North. The cold is better than this heat anyway._

"I-is the battle over, S-ser?" The guard was frightened of him.

"Does it sound like it?" Sandor rasped. "Let me in, you fool."

"I h-haave orders-" The man stammered but under Sandor's gaze he mumbled

"The King's Shield, of course-" _Has the boy fled too?_ Somehow, that was more shameful than anything.

The stables were dark and deserted. Sandor would prepare his horse first, take off the mail and put on the riding saddle. Fill the saddlebags with wine and food and gold. Then he would get the little bird - and resist the temptation to see _her_ one last time.

' _I prayed to the Gods that they will protect you.'_ What did she even mean with that? By now he knew what she had meant with the other sentence. The Queen was not like to give Stannis his niece alive. Nor the Stark girl. _I could save them both._ _If she wasn't so stubborn._ But it did not help. She would stay here, live or die...and he would do the same elsewhere. Would he be able to leave her behind?For a moment he wondered what she would think when she heard that he had fled with the little bird but then he forbade himself every thought of her. It was almost as poisonous as thinking of fire.

His hands were steadier by now...but he still felt the fear in his bones, overshadowing everything else. His mind still painted the world in hues of green and red and orange.

"You can't get inside the Holdfast." Her voice was soft and sad. He had never heard steps but he felt as if he was half deaf anyway from the song of steel and screams, the crackling of the fire….

"I don't want to get in, fool, I want to get out." he replied as he fastened the starp of Stranger's saddle.

"With her. It would be foolish to go without a nice ransom, and if the ransom looks so pretty, too, why not?" Her voice was sharp.

He did not reply but continued to saddle his horse.

"Don't." she said.

"Leave, or I will kill you, swan girl." He was pitiful. If she came closer, she would see his tears, smell the fear that clung to him like perfume. She came closer, he saw only her dress, white and spotless in the darkness of the stables. His own white cloak was bloodstained and torn. He almost laughed at the symbolism of that.

"You are dead on your feet." her voice was soft...and close.

She stood in front of him now.

"I have seen the fire from the keep." She cupped his cheek. Felt his tears. Wiped them away.

"You have been so brave. Do not leave and waste it all. Stay here, with me. Do not leave me." Her voice trembled and for a moment, Sandor wondered whether she was crying. The stables were dark. _She pretends._

Her other hand went to his other cheek, the bad one. Softly, she wiped away the blood, tears and sweat, and it stung when she touched a new gash.

"Stay. Fight on. The morning will come. It is fire, not more. Do not let it rule you. Do not let _him_ rule you. Do not let _him_ take everything away from you." Gregor. Sandor imagined him, laughing and jesting about his puppy brother. But then, other images crept up. Images of the fire, green and hot and hungry, were on his mind and he felt how his hands started to shake again. He couldn't go back. But he would not admit that to her. She should think him a deserter, not a coward.

He wanted to say something harsh but suddenly, she pulled his head down and pressed her lips on his. They were as soft and full as he had imagined them. His hand went to her face, her hair. Soft as feathers, warm and thick. He felt her tongue on his lips and parted them, met her tongue with his. When they touched, she moaned, the softest of moans, but he still heard it. He felt how his head got clearer, how the flames disappeared from his mind. He broke the kiss, looked at her. He could only see her eyes, in fact, shiny in the darkness.

Maybe she saw the decision in his, or maybe she had known how he would decide all along.

"Come back." she squeezed his hand which was not trembling anymore. The fear was still there, like marrow in his bones but there was something else now, too. _Come back. Come back to me._

He felt her eyes in his back as he directed Stranger towards the main gate.

The fire was raging everywhere but he tried not to get too close. _Come back._ It was like a fever dream. Tomorrow, he wouldn't be certain whether it had all been real.

"Where for fuck's sake have you been, Hound?" The imp shouted at him.

"Looking for the king." Sandor gave back. _Someone should shorten him a bit more._ It was a miracle that the dwarf was still alive.

Sandor drove his sword through one of Stannis' men. _The morning will come._ he thought, as he heard trumpets behind him. _And now t_ _he lion comes to save the city._ He had heard that story before.


	26. Chapter 26

**TheOneKrafter, Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou, Nyany4:** I thank you a lot for your reviews and support. This chapter is a bit longer although it does not have some much Aliena/ Sandor in, I had to wrap up loose ends. I promise next chapter there will be more though. Also I kind of forgot Aliena's nameday, she is seventeen now. :D I put her birthday around mid of the year, so it would have happened already. I'm sorry.

Anyway, thank you for reading, and please leave a review. Feedback really motivates me!

* * *

 **King's Landing, 299AC**

 **Aliena**

The battle was over. And he was still here. Many asked him where he had been for an hour but his lies were so stoic, so calm, that no one dared to doubt him. He had been looking for the king, he said. Couldn't find him. Looked in the keep. Found him. Rode out again.

In the end, most were preoccupied with cleaning up the mess the battle had left behind. Brave men were knighted, injured men were healed, dead men were buried.

And Aliena tried to forget that night...while at the same time, she wanted to relive the moment again and again and again. That made for a bad combination.

She had not wanted him to leave. Following a sudden impulse, she had kissed him. And he had reciprocated her kiss. She still remembered- _No._ She did not know what all of that meant. She did know that she didn't want to know, though. She wanted to forget it, ignore it, until it was nothing more than a dream, a _fantasy_. And most of all did she want to fight that growing part of her that did not want to forget. _Even if there was something._ The thought alone sent a shiver down her spine and made her laugh at the same time. _Even if he wanted me as I - even if I wanted him. It would be our death. There are no secrets in this keep. And where would it go?_ She tried to imagine him, dressed in lord's clothes, wrapping a cloak of yellow and black around her shoulders. She couldn't. The Hound might desire her. And in truth, no man would have pushed her away if he had been in his position. But there was nothing more. _It is nothing,_ she tried to convince herself, not quite successfully. She was quite successful in evading him, though, but only because he did the same. He protected the king mostly during the night when she was not with him. Ser Balon protected Joffrey during the day now, or sometimes Ser Osmund, Cersei's horrible sellsword. When Aliena knew that he was on duty, she did not go to see Joffrey, delayed her arrival.

They had walked past each other in an empty corridor once. She had heard his heavy steps but could not resist to look up, her eyes met his- and they both looked away as if they had burnt each other.

He had taken burns in the battle she had heard, terrible wounds on his left arm and leg. Her heart had turned to ice in her chest when she had been told. The wounds he had taken at her insistence. Most probably, he hated her anyway, because she had forced him to go out and face the flames. Sansa would have given him comfort, Sansa would have sung for him. He deserved some kindness and yet, she had sent him back to the fire he feared so much. _He must loathe me._

 **Sandor**

They had ridden into the city in great triumph and he had shared the feeling. He had been set on fire, he had burned...but he had survived. He had made it through this battle. He had fought his fear that night. It was not defeated, it would never be. But he had been able to remain focused. Once inside his chamber, he had collapsed on his bed. Some serving wench had seen to his burns but he barely felt it. He had had a fever, too. He had slept for a day and his dreams had been full of her. She did not leave him when he was awake either.

Sandor was back on his post as the king's shield again. And sooner or later, he would have to see her. Uncertainty ruled him now and that was a novelty for him. He was never uncertain, normally. But with her, everything was different. She had waited in the stables...but for him? Or for the boy? Yet the boy had come earlier, far earlier. And she had kissed him. She had urged him to stay. He could not believe that she had _affection_ for him. And still, he found it hard to believe that she had done it all out of malice. He had seen her kiss the boy, kiss her shining knight, once he had seen her kiss her cousin, too, the new white knight with the square jaw. But never had she kissed someone like she had kissed him in the stables...He forbade himself to dwell on the memory. He needed to talk to her. He wanted to. But everytime he had the opportunity, he evaded her again. Once they had met in an empty corridor and he had been tempted, but the walls had ears in the Red Keep. And he didn't know what to say either. He didn't even know what he wanted. Perhaps it was better to forget it all. He was not himself, whining and hesitating like a pampered pansy. He wanted her, aye. Perhaps more than that. But it would never be and he did not do himself a kindness if he continued to dwell on that night in the stables. _Wine and distraction_. That was what he needed.

 **Aliena**

Cersei had called her. Joffrey was in a bad mood and they wanted to suggest a marriage to the Tyrell girl soon.

"My king! Are you not overjoyed? You won a deciding battle, after all."

Joffrey pouted and shot her an angry glare.

"Mother called me. Mother locked me away in here. Everyone thinks me a coward." he pulled a sulky face. "She should have let me. She made a fool out of me. I am the king, she is only a woman."

He had rarely sounded more like a spoilt brat. Aliena forced herself to smile and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Your Grace, you _are_ the king. The only rightful king. You are infinitely more important than anyone, not only to Her Grace, your survival is of utmost importance for all Seven Kingdoms. You did your part. You motivated _your_ soldiers, _your_ knights. You gave them strength and bravery. You were a worthy, inspiring example. A battle is won with common men. There are so many." Aliena tasted bile at the back of her throat. "But we have only one king."

Joffrey was still not pleased.

"There are many. Half a dozen." _The boy in the North, the Iron Stag, the old Kraken. And you. The Bastard King._

"But there is only _one_ rightful king, Your Grace."

Joff nodded. Turned around...and then turned back again.

"Have you heard the rumours?" he asked her, somehow insecure. _Please, no._

"Which rumours, Your Grace?"

"About my mother and uncle Jaime." he could not say the rest.

"Gossip, Your Grace. Laugh at it. It is our uncle's desperate effort to make his usurping look like an act of justice." _Be content with that, boy._ But he was not.

"All other Baratheons have dark hair. Even you, although you are not even a proper Baratheon. Even my father's bastards had, I -" _You had them killed, I know._

"I fear you are misled, Your Grace. Many Baratheons did not have the black hair. Most did, aye. but there were others. There was a set of siblings with red curls. A stillborn child of Princess Rhaelle had silver hair. Many had the dark brown hair that my mother had...and me as well."

"No Baratheon ever had golden hair. But we are three." _Since when is he so perceptive?_

"It was bound to happen. Your mother comes from a strong bloodline. Your father drank too much. Some maesters say that weakens the… seed." No doubt there were some who said that.

"Maybe you are right...but all my father's bastards-"

"They had a common mother. But Her Grace is the daughter of two Lannisters. From an ancient line. The blood is stronger in them."

This was now completely made up but Joffrey would never ask anyone but her. The risk was too high, he loved being king.

"Your mother once gave birth to a stillborn son. A black haired boy." _Robert's only legitimate child, dead, wrapped in linen and buried somewhere._

"My mother hated my father. She did." Joffrey said now,his final argument.

"In recent years. For his wine and his ...paramours." Joffrey interrupted her.

"My father was the _king_! She had no right to be cross with him, no right at all. A king may do as he pleases!" _Aye, in some ways, he is just as romantic as Sansa._

"No, indeed. She had no right. It was the great disappointment. When they were both still young, newly married, there was great love between them. She was the most beautiful Lady in all the Seven Kingdoms and Robert was the king, strong, tall and battle-proven. So are you, Your Grace. A younger, better king." Apparently, his doubts had faded away and left nothing but smugness.

"Yes. I am every lady's dream." he looked at his reflection in the looking glass. _I guess nightmares are dreams, too._

"Just so. But there will be only one queen." she smiled and stepped next to him. He had grown, was only an inch or two shy of her height. That seemed to please him.

"The first Aegon had two wives. Some other Aegon had six. Another had mistresses and whores beyond count. Why should I not have more than one wife?" he asked her.

"The first Aegon was not from Westeros. The king with the six wives was also named Maegor the Cruel."

"That is not such a bad name." Joffrey threw in. "I would rather be named the Cruel than be laughed at by everyone." _You share that opinion with your darling mother._

"He had six wives and the realm bled. Aegon's many mistresses were not the object of a war but his children were. You have surely heard of the Blackfyre rebellion?"

Joff nodded, scowling.

"Your Grace, for the realm it is best if there is only one queen...and not too many legitimate children."

Joffrey tore his eyes from their reflection to look at Aliena.

"I am the king. It is about what is best for me. The realm is just smallfolk and rivers and forests." He was angry again. She had come to calm him.

"I always want the best for you, my beloved king." She kissed him gently upon the cheek. "But I will need a husband- and you will need a queen, my king. No child will be illegitimate, Your Grace. And I am forever yours."

That notion pleased him. The boy king was about to kiss her back when the door was opened.

"The small council wishes to speak to Your Grace." The page boy bowed so low that his nose almost touched the rushes on the floor.

Outside the door stood Aliena's cousin, Balon who cut an impressive figure in his snowy cloak. He had earned it with his deeds during the riot. Balon was brave and honest and not at all prone to gossiping and curiosity.

"Aliena, you come with me. Whatever they say, you shall hear it with me." He took her arm.

That was not at all what she wanted. Aliena thought she knew what the small council was about to tell their king and she would be as unwelcome as winter.

"I will wait for your return, Your Grace. This is not for me to hear." she said, and curtsied- but Joffrey held on to her arm.

"I say you will come with me. I command you to. I am your king, you cannot refuse me." This is what it would come down to later as well. Aliena sighed.

She looked at the hand that grabbed her forearm so tightly. Joffrey stared down at his own hand, saw the red mark he left on her arm, and let go of her.  
"You will have to do what I tell you." he said.

"I will do as my king commands." her voice was cool, and he did not like it.

"Perhaps we could go for a hunt tomorrow? I will give you the first kill." he tried to reconcile with her. She had to accept his peace offer now, or he would be lost to her.

Aliena smiled reservedly.

"That would make me very happy."

"And there will be a tourney for your nameday." _What am I supposed to rejoice at the thought of men fighting for gold and glory under the pretext of celebrating my nameday?_

"That is too much honour for your cousin, Your Grace." she smiled but Joffrey shook his head.

"You are more. There was a tourney for that traitor. And I want to celebrate."

"A simple dinner and a dance will be enough if you promise me one dance."

"On your nameday, I will give you whatever you want." he took her hand.

"Come now."

On their way down the corridor, Aliena caught a worried look from Balon. _I know,I know._

She wanted to let go of Joffrey's hand when they entered the Queen's chambers, but Joffrey held her hand with an iron grip.

"What has my small council to ask of me?" he wanted to know. "I will never be summoned again. I am the king. The council serves the king, and you should come to me."

He was right there...but he was only a boy of thirteen.

"Aliena, go back to your chambers, this is no place for you, sweetling." The Queen ordered. _Do you think I want to be here, Cersei?!_

She curtsied and tried to retreat but Joffrey stopped her.

"Aliena will hear it. What you have to say."

Varys looked at her with eyes like needles.

"Young love…" he muttered and Cersei gave him a poisonous glance. Pycelle busied himself with scrolls and parchment. Littlefinger sat on his chair as if it was a throne. Indeed, he had every reason to be pleased of himself. Tywin Lannister was absent...surely he schemed with the Tyrells in this moment, had more important things to do than making his grandson agree to marry a beautiful maiden.

"Tell him, _Lord Baelish_." Cersei spat the title out. "It was your idea, after all."

Littlefinger seemed not the least bit uncomfortable.

"Your Grace, we have decided that it would be wise for you to cast aside your beloved betrothed, Sansa Stark, and marry the beautiful Lady Margaery Tyrell in her stead." _The little rose._

"I do not want her. She was _my uncle's_ whore, I will take no one's leavings." Joffrey took her hand. "I am the king. Once my uncle Stannis is dead, Aliena can be heir to that castle they fought over. Or to the island. Then, I will take her as my wife."

She was mildly impressed. Normally, Joffrey was not so brave. Cersei looked equal parts satisfied and angry. Aliena was not quite sure. Should she dissuade him? What did the Queen want?

"Joff-" the Queen started.

"Your Grace." her son corrected her.

"Yes." Cersei's face allowed no feelings. "Your Grace, we need the allegiance of Highgarden."

"They should follow me anyway. I am their _king_." _You are one of their kings, sweetest cousin._

Now, Varys looked at her directly. He expected her to play her part.

But she did nothing. For a moment, she wanted those men to see the power a woman could hold.

"Your Grace, we are your council, and your Lady Mother is your Regent-" Pycelle started but when he saw Joffrey's expression, the rest of his words got lost in a violent cough. Joffrey was roused, though.

This was not at all the direction that was favourable.

Aliena pulled Joffrey a little aside.

"My dear king." She started, and Joffrey looked at her with his deep green eyes, full of stubbornness.

"I love you dearly, you know that. But a great king has to make some concessions. I will be here, at your side, as long as you wish." she squeezed his hand. "And yet, I can give you nothing but my heart while Lady Margaery can give you knights and soldiers. Marry her, Your Grace." she said. Then she smiled, wickedly.

"She was wed to Renly, our uncle, the dead usurper. It is said that he could not bed her. He could not do it. Isn't it glorious to have what others could not have? Take the lady, and make her a queen. Only you can, my king."

"You could wear a crown." he said now. "And you refuse me." _This is not good._

"I would never refuse you, Your Grace." she did her best she to look truly shocked. "I thought I had made plain my feelings for you. But only weaklings and women follow their feelings. You have to be strong where I cannot be, dearest cousin. You have to show wisdom, where I cannot. My heart longs for you...but I know how wrong it would be. Make the decision, I beg you. Marry the young Queen. End my hopes, so treacherous."

The boy looked at her. Everyone else looked at Joffrey. She herself did, too, praying to the Gods that her words had not lost their magic, that he had not lost his trust in her.

"You will be here, forever?" he asked.

"As long as you wish."

"And you will be mine." That was no question so she inclined her head.

"If she is not comely, if she does not please me, I won't take her." he assured his council but relief was plain on their faces. The Golden Rose of Highgarden was said to be as comely as the king's mother once had been.

A little later, Aliena's chambers

She sat at her table, two tall tallow candles shed light on the book in front of her. Valyrian songs from before the Doom, most of them melancholic and elegant.

"Mylady." The door had opened and closed without a sound. Varys stood there, in a serving man's attire.

"Mylord. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Please, sit. Wine?"

Varys took his usual seat to her left. "If I could trouble you for a goblet…"

He took a sip. "The finest Arbor vintage. Truly, the king holds you dear." He smiled his sickeningly sweet smile. "I am so relieved that His Grace still loves you so well."

 _You are relieved that I did not lose my worth for you on the board._

"My power over him weakens with every day."

"You underestimate yourself. He gets more determined in his desires. But you are still the only woman he will listen to. You could be queen…" he was testing her.

"I do not have the face to pull off a crown, I fear. I leave that to other ladies."

"How wise of you." Varys smiled. "I just hope that the boy king does not get too fond of his future wife." his face was sad now. "Young love is seldom made to last."

"Yet, some men are constant in their affections. And some men find it hard to find a woman that can give them what they want…"

 _I will hold him. As long as I have to. Even if I have to make the ultimate sacrifice._ Everything Aliena had, everything she was, all her power derived from Cersei and Joffrey. She needed what her uncle Stannis had. Storm's End. She wanted what only a king could give her. A Lordship. Aliena was quite aware that it might not be Joffrey who would grant it to her. But she needed her fingers on the pulse of power. Joffrey, Cersei, Tywin Lannister. The three golden heads. And she would buy them all.

"It might certainly help if the bride's family was not so …. content with the bridegroom." Varys continued. _He wants him dead._ Joffrey deserved to die, most certainly...Still, murder was something that made her tummy flutter. _Haven't I murdered? Robert, Renly, Ned Stark._ Her guilt was as heavy as an iron ball.

Aliena did not reply.

"You have served the king so loyally, good lady. With all your heart. I know. But one day, you will have to part. There will be other beasts to tame." He smiled. "There is talk of dragons, after all."

Varys wanted to put a boy on the throne, a boy who had Targaryen blood, as he claimed, a boy who was Rhaegar's son. _The Mummer's Dragon._ It sounded like a play.

"I will leave you now, sweetest lady." He did not smile anymore. "Keep the boy close. Show him your love. No jealousy. The Tyrells must not get a hold of him but he must marry the girl. Do whatever it takes." _Sacrifice whatever you have._ "Care for the prince as well. The queen must eat from your palm." _Lions have sharp fangs._

"I have played this game all my life, Lord Varys. You do not need to explain the rules to me.

It is a dance on a rope, but I have never made a misstep."

Varys looked at her with sharp eyes. "Yes. You really learnt quickly." All sweetness had fallen off him. "You will need everything you ever learnt for what is to come. This is a breeze compared to the storm that will follow."

Now it was Aliena's turn to smile.

"I am a Storm's daughter. I am the blood of old stormkings. Wind does not frighten me."

"Stormdaughter was a suitable moniker indeed." And with these strange words, he slumped back into his servant role and left her room with loud, uneven steps.


	27. Chapter 27

**Nyany4, Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou:** Thank you for your reviews and continuous support, it really motivates me!

I corrected that mistake!

Please review! Tell me what you think.

Thank you.

* * *

 **King's Landing, 299AC**

 **Sansa**

It was done. She was free. Joffrey would marry another. Sansa forced herself to look sad but she was not sure whether she fooled them all.

She left the Great Hall, happier than when she entered it for once. The air was sweet and crisp and she felt she had never breathed more consciously. Her torture was over. She would not have to marry him.

"Dear Sansa." The king's cousin called after her. Was she happy with Joffrey's plans? More than once had Sansa heard rumours about them…

"Lady Aliena." Sansa curtsied. The lady had reached her now.

"Shall we take a walk, my dear?" Sansa could hardly refuse. She was no one now and Aliena was the queen's niece. She was of royal blood.

"As you wish." She thought they would walk through the gardens, the day was sunny and warm. But instead, Aliena led her up the stairs to the battlements.

"The air is so much fresher here." she smiled, but Sansa was sure that was not the reason.

"You must be griefly disappointed, my dear. So close to being queen...and suddenly, someone else takes that place, and the king."

"His Grace is right to cast me aside. I am a traitor's daughter, there is treason in my blood." She knew her words well by now.

Aliena's odd eyes rested on her for what seemed a lifetime. Then she took Sansa's hand. Her fingers were cool.

"I am sorry I could not help you.I am sorry I cannot help you." Her blue-green eyes pierced Sansa's blue ones.

"I could not help your father either." The lady looked down quickly. "I could not even help my uncle."

 _The old king._ Had he been murdered by them, too? Sansa was helpless but wary. Was this a trap?

"No one could." Sansa said, uncertainly, "No one could help them."

Aliena looked up now. Whatever it was, the feeling was gone from her eyes and she smiled again. Sansa knew that she was with Cersei's niece again and not with the late king's.

"Surely there are other men on your mind though? Don't we all look for a husband to sweep us off our feet and love and protect us?" There was mockery in her voice now. Aliena was seventeen, had just the right age for marriage.

 _All I want is to be left in peace._ She was never sure whether she like Aliena. Her manners were excellent and she was always kind and was something energetic about her, something cheerful. But underneath there was a bitter sharpness, and Sansa knew that she could be cruel. The lady was not like to be her friend but still, Sansa felt more at ease with her than with anyone else.

"I am not looking for a husband." She replied and Aliena smiled.

"You have grown up. Gods, we did not leave you a choice, I fear. You are a woman now, I know. And we women will endure. Who knows, maybe your brother beats Joffrey. What do you think, would Robb have me hanged, too? Or would he spare me for my father's blood?"

 _He would not have you hanged. He would do it the Old way. The Northern way._

"He would not have you hanged, Mylady." she replied courteously, and Aliena laughed.

"Maybe he would feed me to a wolf, hm?" She stopped walking and walked over to the crenelations. Took in the view over the sea.

Her white gown rippled in a breeze, her hair was loose and cascaded over her back in dark waves. Waves like those a hundred feet below them. The Winch Towers were to their right, Aliena looked over to open sea.

All it would take was a little push. It was reckless of the lady to turn her back to Sansa. _She knows I would never. She knows I do not hate her. She knows what would happen to me..._ Joffrey would tear her to pieces. Sansa still remembered how mad he had been when she had disappeared during the riot. She shivered.

"Come Sansa. Take a good look. This is the closest to freedom you will be. We women will ever be."

Sansa walked over to her until she felt the rough sandstone on her thighs. The sea was endless and sunlit, waves upon waves, with white crowns and an angry hissing.

"It is beautiful." she said.

"Is it?" Aliena smiled one of her odd half smiles.

"How many people these waters have swallowed, how many futures they ruined. My own grandfather drown within sight of his keep...and within my uncle's sight."

"The most beautiful things are always cruellest." Sansa said with bitterness...and could have bitten off her tongue. If she told him…

But Aliena did not even turn her head.

"Often, yes. Beauty is a treacherous thing. I am relieved you learned that lesson."

There were heavy steps behind them and Aliena took a few steps towards the middle of the wall, far away from the crenelations.

"Shall we walk on?" Aliena took her arm and almost pulled her further. Her steps were quick. _Is she running?_

But the heavy steps followed them, came closer.

"Little bird." His rasping voice still sent shivers down her arms...he had rescued her, helped her- and still, he frightened her.

Aliena did not turn around, her face was still as stone for a moment...then she breathed in deeply and smiled to Sansa.

"I think it is you he speaks to."

Sansa curtsied but did not look him in the eye.

"The king has need of you, girl. He does not like waiting." It sounded like a threat but Sansa knew that he was right.

"Goodbye, Mylady." she curtsied to Aliena. Sansa wanted to beg her to accompany her, to gentle the king...But she was a woman now and she would be strong. _Strong like my mother. Strong like my father._

She left the Hound and the lady to themselves and hastened over to the Great Hall. Joffrey did not like waiting at all.

 **Sandor**

He could hardly refuse to fetch the little bird...but _she_ was with the girl and he was still not sure what to do. He could not follow his instincts this time and he had a hard time even finding out what he wanted.

She walked around the battlements with the little bird, her eyes towards the sea. She was beautiful, in white as usually, her dark hair fluttering in the breeze from the sea. He liked it when she wore it loose.

She did not turn around at once, kept her back to him for the blink of an eye. Her hesitation was proof that it had happened, that it had not been a dream, a wine fantasy. She turned around but did not meet his eye. _What is she scared of?_ he wondered. _hy, maybe it's you._ A nasty voice answered.

The little bird was reluctant to go, looked up to her companion but the swan did not seem to notice. The girl walked away - and left them to themselves.

Now she looked up. He was a few paces away from her but could still make out the colour of her eyes, like the sea behind her. Her gown was demure with a high neckline, uncommon for her.

He was supposed to say something, he knew, but he did not know what to say. He took a few steps towards her. Then, he hesitated.

"I should thank you." he said.

"Thank me?" she echoed, lost for a moment. She looked at him now, into him.

"For convincing me to stay." he felt foolish to repeat it, to remind her. Had she forgotten?

"A selfish act, I fear." she smiled. _Come back to me._

He nodded. What exactly did she mean?

"I would have missed you." It was no more than a whisper, hardly audible over the roaring waves.

He reached out, took her hand, for the briefest of moments. Her fingers were cool and soft, and he brushed against her palm with his thumb, felt the lines on it. Felt her knuckles against his own palm, felt her thumb on the back of his hand. She turned her hand, now they lay palm against palm. He lingered for a moment, his eyes locked with hers. Then he let go and turned around. He strode away briskly. At the top of the stairs he turned around. She still looked at him. Now, the tiniest of smiles flickered over her features. He raised one corner of his mouth in response- and disappeared out of her view.

Certain things could not happen between two people without creating a bond. There was something, something far more tangible now. He was not sure what it was but their days of bickering were over, he thought, with a hint of disappointment. What would follow?

 **Aliena**

The Tyrells were popular in the capital before they had even reached it. Food had been sent up in Lady Margaery's name and they were mad with love for her. But no one could take Aliena's place in their hearts in such a short period of time. She had been the people's only benefactor for years and they loved her dearly...although that would not have stopped them from raping and killing her that day.

When the Tyrells finally came, Aliena was amongst those that greeted the ladies. Cersei showed up for a moment, greeted Lady Olenna and Lady Alerie, spoke a few words to her future good daughter but left then for some important business.  
Aliena was lead the ladies into the Queen's Ballroom for tea and cakes.

Margaery Tyrell was shorter than Aliena, more slender and more beautiful. She had brown soft curls and brown doe eyes and looked a lot like her gallant brother.

"Lady Margaery." Aliena curtsied slightly. "I am so happy to finally meet you. The rumours were true, you are indeed very beautiful, if I may say so." Margaery took her hand.

"You are kind to say so." she smiled. "I have been looking forward to meeting you, Lady Aliena. The white Swan they call you, and the smallfolk sings more songs for you than for their king, I heard. We will be good friends, I hope." _What shall I whisper into the king's ear? Or into the Queen's?_

"I am certain of that, Mylady."

A tiny, fragile woman made her way to Margaery's side, leaning heavily on a cane adorned with thorny roses.

"I have looked forward to meeting the legendary Queen of Thorns." Aliena smiled.

Olenna Tyrell raised an eyebrow.

"You will find out that she does not like that name." she retorted. _Of course not._

The old woman had sharp eyes, a shade darker than Margaery's, surrounded by wrinkles. "Some call you the lion's pet. But when I look at you, I see a stag." _Is that what I am? I am not sure._

"I am honoured."

"I did not mean to honour you, girl. My eyes are still sharp, mind that."

"I shall beware...of your eyes and thorns, Mylady." Aliena smiled.

"If I may escort you to His Grace? He is anxious to meet his betrothed." Aliena took Margaery's arm.

"Come to us for supper, girl." Olenna Tyrell demanded. This time, Aliena allowed herself a superior smile.

"Before or after Sansa Stark?" she asked softly and the Queen of Thorns looked at her with sharp amber eyes.

Then she smiled.

"Whenever you wish."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"She _is_ pretty. Prettier than Sansa. Prettier than you, too." Joffrey remarked later that evening when they were in his chambers. "But she is not like you." Joffrey turned around and looked at her. Sandor Clegane was a shadow by the door.

"I will marry Margaery on the first day of the new year. And you will marry the imp on the second." Joffrey grinned. "He will be even uglier now that his skull was split in two." _I heard he was attacked by one of ours._ That had been Cersei, no doubt.

"I wouldn't have thought that possible." she smiled. There were worse men than Tyrion Lannister...but she would not marry the imp. She would marry anyone. That much was certain. Lord Tywin was back in the capital and he was wise enough to see her value...and wise enough to keep her isolated amongst his own.

Joffrey laughed. "Once you're married, I will send him away. No one needs him anymore. And you will be mine then."

"You promised", he reminded her.

Aliena was not sure whether she should be relieved that Margaery's appearance had not diminished her influence over the box king or whether she should be scared of what would inevitably follow. _When the time comes, I will be ready._ She never wanted to be like Cersei. Use her body to achieve things. But by now, she had manoeuvred herself into a precarious position … and she might need to use her body to keep her head.

 _I truly am a swan amongst lions. I am no stag or I would fight them off._

"I promised." she agreed. Tywin Lannister would never waste his son on a Swann, imp or not.

"The son you bear me will be heir to Storm's End." He decided.

"By the rights of Gods and Men, Storm's End belongs to Tommen, Your Grace." she noted but Joffrey brushed her comment away with a lazy waving of his hand.

"He can have Casterly Rock. You like Storm's End, don't you?"

He was so self-centred that it always shocked Aliena when he noticed something that had nothing to do with his person.

"I do."

"I have decided. I am the king. My brother is just a fat little weakling. Are you happy?" he asked, and there was cunning in his eyes. He wanted something in return. _Of course._

"I thank you for your kindness, Your Grace." Aliena replied courteously. Joffrey sat opposite her, between them the table. Now he smiled, a smile full of satisfaction.

"Kindness should be rewarded. Don't you think I deserve a kiss for that, Aliena?"

She did not want to do it in front of _him_.

"A kiss from me? Why, your betrothed is here, Your Grace." she teased him. Joffrey grew angry.

"It is not her I want. And now, I want what I deserve. I command it."

She had never had a choice.

Aliena got up and kneeled next to his chair. Touched his hair, his cheek, let her fingers trail down his neck.

"I am yours. Forever." she purred. "But you may not be like this to me." Her fingers lay on his leg now. "Be my king, be my master, be my lover." she whispered and hoped the man by the door would not hear it. "I will give you whatever you desire. But you must be kind to me."

Joffrey's eyes pierced her. As of late, she never knew whether she dared too much.

"You are my lady." he announced. "You are mine. And I will be good to you- if you deserve it." he sniggered and Aliena forced herself to give him a dazzling smile.

"I will do my utmost." She kissed him. Joffrey's lips were soft and wet, like maggots, and she felt his tongue brushing against her lips, forcing entry. She allowed him, this time, and knew that behind her, he watched. _How should he like me? All he sees of me is all I am not. Or … is this what I have become?_

She broke the kiss, breathless.

"Good night, Your Grace." There was a promise in her words and she noticed that his eyes were more black than green. He was almost fourteen, and the man awoke in him... _And as the boy grows up, the monster in him grows, too._

"Good night. Dog, see her to her chambers. I still have Osmund."

Ser Osmund of the Kingsguard was Cersei's creature through and through, only a couple of inches shorter than the Hound, younger and leaner, but still hard with muscle. He was not hard to look upon but slow of mind and too arrogant to be of much use in fighting or diplomacy. Yet, his cruelty and stupidity recommended him to Joffrey just like his ruthlessness had recommended him to Cersei who had not once considered how foolish that was. A sellsword would turn for a coin and a promise, if he even needed that much.

Sandor Clegane did his duty but by now, Aliena knew him well enough to feel the anger although she could not see his face.

They walked in silence until they reached her chambers. She stood in the door and tried to look at him but he did not bow his head and his eyes were fixed on some spot above her head.

"Do you think I _want_ to do this?" she hissed angrily, knowing that the walls had ears, even here in the Holdfast.

"I don't care-" he started but she would have none of it.

"What are you angry with me for than?" she demanded to know, still whispering.

"I am always angry, have you not been told?" he lifted his visor and stared down at her with grey, clouded eyes full of rage. "Stop presuming that everything is about you, swan." _He is angry. He has seen me...I understand._ She tried to calm her anger.

"Now you lie to me." that was bold of her.

"That is rich coming from you." he snorted.

"I do speak the truth now. I don't want to. But I am between a rock and a hard place."

"Just don't do it, swan." His eyes were softer already. The hall was still deserted.

"Would you just give up your sword and armour? Would you just lie down your weapons?" she asked.

He did not reply for a while, just looked at her.

"Sharpen your knife then, little swan, and bring up your shield." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You are playing a dangerous game."

"Aren't we all?" she asked and ignored the shiver that went down her spine, her impulse to take his hand…

He didn't reply. Looked at her.

Then he turned around. "I better sharpen my sword, little swan." _He will protect me._


	28. Chapter 28

Hey!

 **Nyany4, Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou** : I thank you both for your support, it really keeps me going!

 **Nyany4** : Yes, I am happy to actually have a state of transition here, they should become friends and learn to trust each other before they become lovers.I am sorry this chapter took so long again, I promise, the next one will be quicker because I already have an idea. :D

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou** : Thank you! I agree, this is a better take on it. That is why the 52nd chapter of We Are All Sinners Here takes me so long^^

 **MarvelMyra** : Thank you, too, for your criticism. I corrected the mistakes you mentioned although sometimes, I couldn't find out whether it was a comment or a correction. :D

Thank you.

* * *

 **King's Landing, 299 AC**

 **Tyrion**

"My lord, the Hand has sent for you. Lord Tywin. I mean, your Lord Father."

 _Gods, this boy has a knot in his tongue and jelly for brains._

"I know who my father is, Pod." Tyrion stretched and heard his joints creak. It was already full dark outside but tall, slim tallow candles kept the darkness away from his solar. Autumn was there, lurking in the early nights and the late morning. Tyrion wondered how dark the winter would be. _The long night._ He should find a book about that. But first, he had his Lord father to think about. He rarely invited him for a cup of mulled wine and a chat by the fire. Never, actually.

 _What have I done wrong now?_ he wondered as he made his way from the kitchens to the Tower of the Hand. He saw light in the windows of many rooms. _The fear is still in our bones. No one finds sleep._

And the war was not yet over. _I have done enough. I have taken enough._ But Tyrion knew that there was another battle waiting, another opportunity for his beloved sister to finally get rid of his ugly head. _You can't have it, Cersei, not as long as I have only one. You won't._ His sister should be thankful for his head, it saved her from a lot of trouble. But gratitude was not the Queen's strongest point.

Tyrion ascended the stairs to his father's solar. To _his_ _own_ former solar. Still, he ground his teeth when he thought about it...and the cell he called his bedchamber now.

His legs ached by the time he reached the solar, and his shoulder was throbbing with pain.

"You sent for me, my lord?" Lord Tywin sat at his desk, writing letters, the piece of parchment no doubt more important than Tyrion ever was.

Tywin gestured for him to sit and Tyrion accepted the rare honour gladly.

"What is this folly between you and that Swann girl?" Lord Tywin did not think much of a pleasant prelude.

 _Not Shae._ Tyrion was relieved, although bewildered. Aliena Swann was Joffrey's pet and she had not spoken to him often. She was Cersei's confidant and his own natural enemy because of that.

"Pardons, my lord, but I think I do not know what you mean."

Tywin raised an eyebrow in annoyance and impatience.

"His Grace told me it was her wish to marry you." All Tyrion could do was bite his tongue and swallow the laugh that came. He tasted blood.

"No. Surely not. Most likely our gracious king made a jest." _Indeed. He means to punish me._

Tywin looked at him with those pale eyes. Then he nodded.

"She is to remain unmarried. The king and Cersei are fond of her and I see no reason to remove her from court." _And she has a claim. Should the rumours about the king's parentage get louder, Joffrey will wed her and remain king._ It was quite clever. But by now, she was getting old. She would turn ten and eight in the next year, if Tyrion remembered correctly, and many would wonder why she was still unmarried.

"As for you-" _Marriage?_

"I intend to remain unmarried as well, you know how fond my nephew and my sister are of me."

Irritated, Tywin raised an eyebrow. "Are you done with your jests?" He did not wait for a reply. "You will marry Sansa Stark." _No._

"She hates me-"

"She would not be the first wife to hate her husband. Yet, in this world, women and sons still have to obey. If you do not want to, Lancel will take her gladly, I am sure." Why did he wanted the girl married so badly?

"Why?" he asked.

Tywin considered a moment before he spoke. _Am I trustworthy enough, father?_ Apparently, yes.

"Talk reached me that the Tyrells intend to marry her to Willas, their heir. Winterfell is her dowry and I can see why they would set their eyes on it but it is not my intention to let them have it. A Lannister will take the North after that boy's death."

"Robb Stark might surprise us all and win this war." Tyrion remarked.

"Leave that to me." Tywin said cooly. _He has a plan._ "So, will you take the Stark girl as your wife or are you not done yet chasing after whores?" _You have no idea._ Shae would wait in Varys' chamber later.

"I shall sleep on it." Tyrion said. But he knew that he would. Lancel was fairer to look upon but the boy would never protect her from Joffrey. _I would. I have. But she is not like to thank me for it when she sees my face in front of the altar._

"As long as you sleep alone. I expect your reply on the morrow." Tyrion knew he was dismissed when his father put his quill back in the inkpot. Tyrion's legs had not recovered from the strenuous ascent but he took his leave without complaining, although his joints did.

 **Aliena**

Tonight she would sup with the future Queen. Her maids brought the huge brass bathtub and tonight, she told them to put in rose oil instead of her black jasmine scent.

She knew of course why they wanted to meet her. Who else knew Joffrey better? And just in case she lied, they would invite Sansa tomorrow, to ask her the same questions.

When her hair was dry and braided, her maids helped her into a new gown. The cut was simple, with long dagged sleeves and a neckline that left her shoulders and the top of her breasts bare. It was embellished in silver and gold but what made the gown so stunning was the fabric. It looked green now- but if one looked from another angle, it looked red. Sometimes, in the dim candlelight, it appeared almost black. The fabric was from Myr, where not only lace was of an exceptional quality. Aliena was quite content.

"The lion necklace, Kenna, and the antler headpiece, please." Her maidservant nodded:

"A good choice, my lady."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Olenna Tyrell looked at her with sharp eyes.

"How kind of you to pay us a visit, child." she said then."And you look more queenly than my Margaery, truly. I am surprised you can even hold your head up with that thing around your neck. And what an extravagant gown. I just cannot tell its colours, child. Pray tell me, can you?" _Can I?_

"Why, it is just what it appears to be." Aliena smiled.

"I am not sure. I never needed such ostentatious finery but this court is full of peacocks." The little crone shook her head.

"I think you look very beautiful, my lady. You must forgive my dear grandmother." Margaery put her hand on Aliena's arm. "It will only be the three of us, my lady, my lord father and mother were invited to dine with Lord Tywin and the Queen." Margaery said, apologetic.

"Better for you, girl. I am far more entertaining than my oaf of a son and his insipid wife." Olenna did much to appeal frail but there was no weakness in her voice.

Aliena did not doubt that. Lord Mace was a ponderous, blustering fool, his wife elegant and dignified but both of them were dreadfully unoriginal.

"Lady Margaery, would you like to hunt with me on the morrow?" She offered. It was past time that the two of them got to know each other better...without her grandmother listening to every word.

Margaery was a picture of grace and courtesy. "How kind of you to invite me. I would very much love to, good lady. Will His Grace accompany us?"

 _You might fall off your horse with shock and fear, good lady._ Although Margaery seemed to be made from tough stuff, so Aliena was not certain.

"Perhaps not tomorrow. But he _is_ a keen hunter." Aliena took her seat.

"Is he? So he is a lot like his father?" Olenna started her interrogation before the first course was even served.

"Like King Robert?" Aliena asked, without ostentation but she knew these two were smart enough to get her meaning. "Not so much, no. Joffrey likes his hunts... intense. He likes to feel nature, life and death so close to him. My uncle just enjoyed riding and shooting arrows."

Margaery listened attentively.

"So is hunting what he enjoys most?" even her voice was sweeter than sugarplums.

"No, he enjoys many things. Joffrey is a very just ruler and he enjoys bringing justice. From time to time, the prisoners from the lowest cells are brought up into the outer ward and Joffrey sentences them with great wisdom and strength. Not long ago did he punish a young woman who stole bread for her children instead of working for the silver to buy it like an honest citizen. The king decreed that she should lose one hand for theft. But as she was a woman who had run from her husband, Joffrey also found her guilty of adultery. She was whipped in the yard, a hundred lashes, before the eyes of the whole court. When they carried her away, His Grace remarked quite cleverly how she looked like butcher's ware."

Olenna took her napkin and put it in her lap. Margaery's brown eyes were not smiling for once.

"A just king indeed." The Queen of Thorns said, dryly. "And so witty."

The first course came and no further words were spoken of the king.

The marriage would still take place, that was certain. Mace Tyrell wanted a crown for his daughter's pretty head, and Tywin wanted the Tyrell men and gold. But Cersei had two sons...Aliena was aware that she might have just signed Joffrey's death sentence. _He deserves to die._ She told herself but a small nagging voice in the back of her head objected _They have given you a home and you stab them in the back. Coward, traitor, scum._ It was the Hound's voice. _I am. I am of the Stormlands, I am supposed to be upright and honourable. But how can I be upright here if arrows hit anyone who does not kneel? How can I be honourable here, where honour is a man's death?_ No one had ever told her how to be good _and_ survive. _They left out that there is no right and wrong._ She might wear gowns of black and white but she was living in a world that was painted in shades of grey.

 _I am a stag in the lions' den, but I am not one of them. I owe them nothing. I must never forget who I am, or I will be lost._

 **Sandor**

He followed her shamelessly. He was done with playing hide and seek and while he had tried to evade her before, now he tried to encounter her wherever he could.

She stood on the wall that surrounded the keep, a few feet away from the crenellations carved from red sandstone. She had tilted her head back, her throat was bare and pale in the milky light of the full moon that fought its way through the clouds. It had grown colder here and she wore a fur-edged cloak.

"Some maesters say that our destiny lies in our stars. Septons preach our destiny lies in the hands of the Gods", she said and he knew she had noticed him. He walked over to her until he was only an arm length away.

"Fools. There are no Gods and if there are any, they do not care more for us than those stars. There is no destiny. Only those who can protect themselves and those who can't."

"Destiny lies in our own hands, I agree." She no longer looked at the stars but at him.

"You do not believe in Gods." There was curiosity in her voice.

"How can anyone? Take a good look, swan. Which kind of God would create this? If there are Gods they are cruel and care not a fig for us."

He saw the flicker of a smile on her face.

"Take a good look around." she said, took a step towards him. "How can you not believe in Gods?"

"Which kind of God would make someone like Lollys Stokeworth? Someone like my brother?" He clenched his teeth.

"The same God that made you and me. The God who made sheep and beasts made dogs as well, and stags, and swans."

"He made the weak so that the strong can feast on them, is that the way of it?" he snorted. "Is that your kind of God?"

Somehow she was closer again.

"Maybe he made the strong so that they could defend the weak. Maybe the fault lies in us and not the Gods. Maybe we are to blame, not them."

He laughed.

"Then they were fools to create beasts, and they are fools to let them live."

"Your father had two sons, some say a daughter, too." _Elenor._ "A beast, greater than all others, and two dogs, puppies, no more. And yet, when the beast attacked, did he act? Did he stop him?"

If she had been someone else, he might have flung her from the wall. Instead he growled:

"Shut your mouth. Don't ever speak of it."

"Or you will kill me?" she smiled. "If you want to scare me, you have to try harder." She paused. "Well, where were I?- Ah. So your father did nothing, not even when he could have. There must have been a moment when he noticed that your brother was dangerous. That he would be a threat to his other children. And yet, how can a father kill his own son?"

 _He was weak._

"So the Gods are our fathers and they refuse to finish the beasts off in order to let the sheep live?" He gave a barking laugh.

"You should be a septa, girl."

She laughed, too. "Would you like that?" There was only a hint of sharpness in her voice but he picked it up.

"White suits you." he said, only half in jest. She countered that with a smile.

"And so, the Gods will watch on while the beasts they made fight and kill their other children - or scar them." She raised a hand to touch his scarred cheek but he caught her wrist in mid air.

"Don't", he warned. "You may take me for a sheep but I am more than ready to prove you wrong."

She seemed to find that funny.

"A sheep?" she laughed. "Do you think me a fool?"

He still held her wrist.

"Do you want to know, swan?" he rasped, with a hint of humour.

That made her smile.

"Mayhaps not."

The tension was thick in the air. He should kiss her. Sandor just gathered the courage when

she cut through the silence: "Your little bird is to marry the imp in less than a fortnight."

 _She tests me._ It gave him an odd feeling to think that she was jealous. There was no reason, truly, for his thoughts and desire and ...everything else belonged to her. Even his nights did, as of late. It pleased him, somehow, but at the same time he wanted to shout at her, tell her the truth.

"She won't be happy with that twisted little gargoyle." he sneered instead. "And he is far too lucky, that bloody dwarf."

Her full lips pulled a scowl. _You fool._ That had been the wrong thing to say. The moment to kiss her was gone.

"There are worse men than him." she said, suddenly cooler. _Why, me, for one?_

"He set the river ablaze, bloody coward that he is." Sandor scowled.

"A coward who led the sortie you could not lead?" It stung.

"I am no-" he growled but she interrupted him.

"Coward? Only a fool would take you for one. Do I not know best how brave you are? I know that you returned to the horror - and you fought it." _For you._ "It is our Queen you have to thank for the wildfire. Tyrion had the chain forged - and saved our city. But it does not make for a good song, does it?" her voice sounded bitter.

"So you say she should be satisfied with him?" he laughed but it was joyless. "You never seemed so pleased when he was offered to you."

She wanted to withdraw her hand but he held it tightly and she gave up.

"Tyrion saved Sansa from Joffrey while you and I just stood and watched. He sacrificed a lot for her, although he does not know it yet. He was kind to her when no one else was. Your little bird would do well to remember that."

"No one ever thanks the imp." Now he let go of her arm. "You are a fool if you think that people will be able to overlook his twisted body and that ruin of a face.", he said bitterly - and talked about himself as much as about the dwarf.

"Why, then I shall gladly sew myself a suit of motley." she grinned. "Don't you want to tell me that it would look good on me?"

"You won't make me a liar, little swan." he retorted.

"That stung." she put her hand on his arm, he felt her fingers through the sleeves of his doublet.

"I thank you." she said. "I have not forgotten. - You are neither kind nor good-hearted, you're not gallant or handsome." _Well, I wasn't aware._ "But you're loyal. Honest. Upright. And brave. So brave." she stood on her tiptoes and whispered into the stump of his ear: "And I promise I will never tell anyone that you have a tender spot in your heart." A tender spot. He almost laughed. There was nothing tender about him.

"Why, lying never burdened you before, girl."

She shrunk back to her normal height.

"I don't lie to you." Her voice was earnest but not angry. She pulled the cloak more tightly around her shoulders.

"Good night, Sandor." Few ever called him by his first name, and there was an intimacy in it that both pleased and scared him.

"Sweet dreams...Aliena." He had never said her name before. Not out loud. It made her smile, he caught a glimpse of it as she walked past him, over to the stairs.

Above him, the black of the sky had faded to a deep ink blue. The morning would be there in a few hours. He should get some sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

**Hey!**

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou: You will like this then! As always, I thank you that you actually take the time to review!**

 **So I hurried up and finished this chapter just now. Next one will take two or three days again, though, for I have exams to study for.**

 **Please tell me how you like it! I was quite unsure whether I should go this far with her and Joff but I thought that one pure maiden is enough and that role is clearly Sansa's.**

 **So, yes, please let me know what you think!**

* * *

 **King's Landing, Tyrion and Sansa's Wedding Day, 299AC**

 **Aliena**

Aliena had taken care with her wardrobe as not to overshadow the bride. But she wouldn't have had to be so careful, for Sansa looked more beautiful in her wedding gown than she herself ever had. The girl was a woman now and that was plain to see, although her face was pale and her eyes full of un-wept tears.

Aliena wore green velvet and cloth of gold, a necklace of emerald leaves that Joffrey had given her once. The Tyrells were not present for the wedding itself, but they would be there later for the feast. _They were no better friends to her than I_ _am._ And still, she needed them as they needed her...for now. Margaery was quick, lively and good-hearted, her grandmother on the other hand, was just as ruthless as Lord Tywin although she hid it better. Aliena and Margaery had hunted together, had visited Flea Bottom together although it was obvious that Margaery was not used to this kind of charity, she did her best to hide her shock and disgust. Many men had returned from the battle wounded and broken and the blood drew fleas and flies, even in autumn. But Aliena honestly _liked_ Joffrey's betrothed, something she herself would not have thought possible. She was not fool enough to trust them, though. They showed their true colours now: All of Sansa's green friends had deserted her like a pack of cowardly sheep.

Sansa had been shocked speechless when she had grasped the truth, the reason for her new between Mother and Father, and next to her short, ugly bridegroom, she was crying, too, silent tears rolled down her cheeks. They were a court of well trained parrots and cowards, so nobody noticed the bride's distress. Sometimes, rarely, Aliena allowed herself to loathe the royal court -and herself, in the process. _Mother would not have stood here like a mute fool and watched. She would have spoken up._ At least, Aliena thought that was what her mother would have done. She had not known her so well after all. _Is this what I am? Are we what we do? Or are we what we want to be? Or do our intentions show who we truly are?_ It was all so complicated but there were a few things she was sure of.

Sandor stood behind Joffrey in his pale armour and Aliena could not openly look at him without turning her head. He wore his helmet anyway but she would have bet that he clenched his jaws at the sight of Sansa's obvious misery. Cersei stood next to Aliena, Tommen in front of her, holding her hand, her father between her and her eldest son. The royal family occupied the first row, while Ser Kevan stood behind his brother with other courtiers. _A crowd to witness this act of cruelty, this forced marriage._

Aliena had never liked the vows and prayers and songs. It was a tedious, pretentious affair at best, stiff and loveless and this particular ceremony was not improved by the crying bride or the ashamed bridegroom. Finally, the time came for the bride to change her colours. Joffrey loved this part and once again, Aliena saw clear what she shut out most of the time. He was on the brink of manhood, and the man would be even crueller than the boy. _Maybe I have done a good deed when I told the truth. Maybe the Queen of Thorns will do what sould be done, for the good of all._ Varys was always in favour of doing this for the good of the realm although ultimately, of course it was him who decided what was good and what was bad. The eunuch stood on the other side of the sept, with Lady Tanda and her daughters, and a dozen others. They all witness the Northern girl's unwillingness to bend the knee for a Lannister. _Your brother did the same, girl. And I have a bad feeling about his future._ Robb Stark's days were numbered, she knew that much. Whispers reached her, through Varys, she had no doubt. And although they were all vague, they all told the same story: Tywin was certain that the Young Wolf no longer posed a threat.

Tywin's son was red as the cloak he had finally managed to wrap around his bride's shoulders. Aliena was of course no expert, but she thought this an ill omen for their union. The worst part for her was over, though. There would be only a small feast, nothing grand. But for Sansa, the worst part was yet to come, she feared.

 **Sandor**

The little bird and her dwarf of husband had retreated. Most of the ladies had gone to bed by now, too, _she_ had left with the little Tyrell and her crone of a grandmother. The Queen remained, a cup of wine in her hand, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shiny.

The boy king had drunken too much, too. Sandor had seen him leer at the little bird and at his cousin, had seen him squeeze the bride's teat and pinch Aliena's waist during the dance.

"Escort His Grace to his chambers." Tywin Lannister commanded and Sandor, glad to leave the feast, took the boy to the Holdfast. They had almost reached the royal quarters when the king stopped.

"I will visit my cousin." he announced. "Come Dog, you might be of use." The boy king staggered slightly, his cheeks were flushed and his speech a little slurred. _He wants her._

"She will be asleep. Tomorrow." Sandor said and knew how dangerous these words were.

"Tomorrow? I think not. Now." The boy was surprisingly quick on his feet. They reached her door and Joffrey pushed it open. The girl wore only a nightgown, her hair was loose and apparently, she had just taken off her jewelry.

She sank into a curtsy.

"Your Grace. To what do I owe this surprising pleasure?"

"You cannot marry my uncle anymore so everything we decided on is now invalid." Joffrey stated. "I will have you now."

Aliena saw just as much as Sandor had that this was not just a fit of desire. That words would not help her anymore.

She tried nonetheless: "Your Grace, I will if that is your wish. But as you know it would be my first time, and I ask you to give me a day, to prepare myself."

"I said: Now." Joffrey was not to be swayed.

"I beg you, my king. You said you would be kind." _He does not remember, girl._ Sandor knew what was about to happen. And he couldn't let him. _I stood and watched him beat the Stark girl...but I cannot stand and watch this._

"Dog, seize her, drag her to my rooms. She refuses my command."

Sandor did move towards her. But then he put himself in the king's way, his hand on his sword hilt. Before Joffrey could grasp the situation, Aliena stood at his elbow, smiling.

"My beloved", she laid a hand on Joffrey's arm."I do not have to be dragged. I will come with you happily. This is what I have longed for for so long - though I expected it to be different."

 _She protects me._ It was all wrong. _He_ was supposed to protect her. This boy, he had no business- but her gaze met his and she shook her head, ever so slightly. _Do not intervene._

"I think your service is no longer needed tonight, Clegane." _Go away. Leave me to him._ She was more foolish than she was brave.

"No, my dog shall come with us." The king decreed. It was an odd procession that made its way through the holdfast. Sandor was about to knock down the king, take her and run, run to the stables and be gone before anyone could notice. But she would never come with him. _I could just force her to._ She stood no chance against him. _She would hate me for it._ He was forced to stand and watch … The royal quarters were guarded even in the king's absence. Thankfully, it was neither Blount nor Trant, but the swan's cousin and the Queen's most recent pet, a man of strong built with black coarse hair and a common sense of humour. They made no comment as the king entered with his cousin, dressed only in a nightgown. Sandor entered without so much as a look but he felt Swann's eyes in his back. _He loves her._ The white knight was not hard to look upon, kind, honourable, integer...a perfect knight, all in all. But he said nothing, did not step in front of her. The king went ahead but Aliena lingered in front of the royal bedchamber door.

"If you think about risking your head for me, I'll kill you." she hissed.

"Shall I stand here and listen-"

"Yes. I would sooner you didn't. Go away, sleep, drink...he won't notice."

Did she really suggest that? He was angry all of a sudden.

"If you think I do that, you can bloody well think again."

The king was impatient. "Aliena, come now. What are you whispering anyway?"

She turned around. "I just asked him to be a good dog and not let anyone in. We do not want to be disturbed." _Stay outside. Do not come in. No matter what you hear._ That was what she meant.

The last thing he saw were her eyes, and there was no fear in them, only determination.

How was he supposed to save her when she wanted to be some sort of tragic hero? How was he supposed to protect her if she refused to be protected? How should she ever want him after he stood outside and did nothing while she was - He heard muffled voices, her laugh. _Has there ever been a better mummer?_ He was never sure whether what he saw was just another mask, another charade. Sandor liked to think that it was not.

He stood outside the bedchamber door for about the quarter of an hour when a page came in. He saw Sandor and lowered his gaze automatically.

"My-my lord, it's the Queen." he stuttered. "I shall ask, 'Is her niece with the king?' "

"The king's with his cousin and they do not want to be disturbed, so bugger off." he told the boy, snarling but the boy did not scurry away.

"It's the queen's command, my lord, she says that afterwards, a guard is to stay with the lady. All night."

"So I shall play wet-nurse?" he forced himself to say. There had been ears in the corridor tonight, and someone had run to tell the Queen. No one should know about his ...interest in her.

"O-or one of your brothers, my lor-"

" _Brothers._ " There was no way he would ever let one of that lot stay in her room. From that he could protect her, after all. _My brother tried to take her, too._ How was it possible that he had been able to protect her from Gregor but not from the little shit he called king? If there were Gods, they had a strange sense of humour and Sandor did not find it funny.

"Run, boy, and tell the Queen. But tell her that it is too late for chaperons now, anyway."

Perhaps the woman would show sense for once and tell her father. That would keep the little swan safe in the future although her wings were already clipped by now, he feared. _Safest would be a sword between his ribs._

Sandor did not know how long he stood there. Once, he heard a muffled cry of pain and his knuckles went white around his sword hilt but he stood outside, waiting, anxious. He should go in. If the boy killed her- but then, he heard her voice again, perhaps even a laugh. _She gives me a sign._ For once, he wondered whether this was how that Prince-knight had felt, when he had stood guard outside the chamber in which the king fucked the woman he loved. _You are a wretched fool. Songs and tales._ Sandor snorted. _Stop feeling sorry for yourself. She is braver than you, you pathetic figure._ He squared his shoulders. She would come out of the king's chamber at some point, and then he would be there. Perhaps he could give her _comfort._ He did not quite know how. But he would try. _She will be scarred._ That saddened him the most. _But it is not the first scar she takes here._ She was stronger than any other woman Sandor knew. Stronger than most men, too, in all honesty.

He heard something on the other side of the door and took a step back. He heard her laugh but something was wrong.

"Sleep here." he heard the boy say and clenched his teeth.

"I cannot, Your Grace. The rumours…" The door was opened. She was lovely as dawn, pale with two red spots on her cheeks, her hair a mess of dark curls. Her nightgown was torn though, he saw, and there was blood on it, between her legs. The boy wore only a robe of heavy red and gold brocade and Sandor would have loved to cut him open from throat to guts.

"Good night, my king." she smiled but this time, she could not work her magic. The smile did not reach her eyes.

Joffrey touched her shoulder and Sandor saw her stiffen for the blink of an eye.  
"Good night, my lady. You have pleased me tonight. That will not be forgotten. I shall be loyal to you. Forever." He kissed her, a moist kiss on the lips.

"Be gone now, Hound. See that my lady gets into bed safely."

Sandor nodded curtly. The girl walked upright at his side, she did not cry, she did not speak. Her face was carved from stone.

She bid the two Kingsguards good night, and both replied courteously enough, although they were baffled.

"We better hurry before anyone sees me in this state." she said quietly to Sandor, her voice was calm and steady. _Does it not affect her at all?_ She was like a well guarded castle, he had no idea what was going on behind her smooth forehead, which feelings her cool eyes hid.

But she was right. One sleeve of her nightgown was torn and there was a tear at the hem as well that reached up to her knee. Yet, she walked with her head held high. _Even in this state, she looks regal. Dignified._ Not for the first time did he think that a lot would be better if she had been crowned instead of that Lannister bastard.

Once inside her chambers, he noticed how her walls slipped, though. She shivered and there were tears in her eyes although they did not fall. A woman waited inside, hair brown streaked with grey, in a blue servant's dress.

"My lady." She rose from the stool at the foot of Aliena's bed but interrupted herself when she saw him.

"You should leave, Ser. My lady needs to rest now."

Sandor was about to snarl a reply when Aliena put a hand on his arm.

"It is alright, Kenna." she said, wearily. "I would like to take a bath now. If you could-"

"It is all prepared. Shall I add another bucket of hot water, my lady? It is just there on the fire." She was a diligent servant.

But Aliena shook her head. "No. I don't like to be cooked in my bathtub." She managed a weary, unconvincing smile.

"I will just add the oils then, my lady."  
The maidservant scurried away but left the door ajar, Sandor noticed.

"You're bleeding." he remarked. This time, the smile did reach her eyes but it was full of unease.

"I am not an expert, I fear, but I heard that it is quite natural for a maiden to bleed during her first bedding."

Apparently, his surprise was plain on his face. She laughed. "What did you think?" she asked, bewildered. "That I have given it to the stable boy when I was thirteen?" she shook her head. "No, he has not made me bleed in any other way than this. I would have expected it to be worse." She gave him a wry smile. As she bent down for her bedrobe, her torn sleeve slipped down and he saw her naked shoulder. It was bruised.

"Don't look at me like that." she had noticed his stare. "Sansa looked worse a lot of times." _He did not take from her what he took from you. With you it's different._

"My lady, the bath is ready."

Aliena took her robe and smiled at him.

"Good night." And before he could tell her that he would stay, she disappeared in her dressing chamber. She closed the door properly, though.

Sandor felt uneasy. He had spent a night in her bedchamber before, when he she had been a little girl. He had almost strangled her, he remembered with unease, and she had suffered for him. Sandor had told her about his scars back then, in the darkest hour of the night, with curtains between them. _She cares for me somehow. But I do not understand why._ He remembered the bruise on her throat, how it had gone from red, to purple, to blue-green and then faded to yellow. He remembered the guilt that had been heavy as a rock in his stomach, had not been dulled by wine or whores or gambling. He had sworn himself to never hurt her, to protect her from harm. But he had failed, bitterly failed.

Sandor set down his helmet on a dresser by the door. Aliena's maidservant came out of the dressing room, saw him standing there - but made no remark. Aliena's hair was wet but even for the night, she was more lavishly dressed than most others were on Father's Day.

She wore a white nightgown under a red taffeta bedrobe with brocade sleeves and a silken sash. She had changed her slippers, too, these were of plush red velvet.

"You should go to bed, really. I have kept you up long enough." she said, to both of them.

The maidservant shot Sandor an appraising look but then she made for the door.

"As you wish, my lady. Just ring the bell when you have need of me." She bowed.

"Good night, Kenna." Her voice was warm. The woman closed the door behind her.

"You must forgive her distrustfulness. She served my mother before me and tries to protect me from harm." The laugh that followed was joyless.

"You should leave, too." She smiled. "You had a most uncomfortable night, I fear."

Sandor gave a barking laugh. "Bet mine was better than yours."

Then he shook his head. "The Queen wants a guard in your room, swan."

That seemed to surprise her.  
" _In_ my room? It is not about Joff then." She furrowed her brow. "Does she expect me to jump out of the window?" she asked, apparently baffled.

"I would never. I would never kill myself. I am no coward. Women cannot hold swords and fight battles...but women can have courage, too."

That made Sandor laugh, though it was a wry, cynical laugh.

"No one can look at you and believe the opposite, swan." That made her smile, really smile. Her eyes were warmer, too, but apparently, she wasn't. She shivered.

"You're cold." he observed. She looked at him strangely hurt.

"I fear I am. All the warmth I had left with my maiden's blood." _What?_

"No. I meant you're shivering, you fool." he corrected her.

"Oh." she laughed, giggling like a girl. "Did you just call me a fool?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Might have." he retorted. "What if I did?"

"I guess you would be right then", she said, and suddenly, the boy was back again, blond and cruel, almost physically present between them.

"I should have-", he started, knowing that all sentences that started like this were followed by pathetic excuses. _Should have, would have, could have..._ She looked up, surprised.

"No." Her wet hair flew when she shook her head. "I made my bed. I made my bed over the last years and now I had to lie in it. How often did I have the chance to leave? I lost count. I am a swan in a lion's den, and I stubbornly refused to leave. The moth that flies too close to the candle burns its wings. This is mine own fault. And I will never let anyone risk their lives to get me out of the pit I digged myself. No one should suffer just because I miscalculated. Because I was too stubborn and too sure of myself."

He liked her. A great deal too much.

"Takes a lot to admit that." he nodded.

"I noticed it a while ago, but by then it was already too late." She shrugged. "I knew this would be inevitable. I am not the first to lose my maidenhead under uncomfortable circumstances. Sansa suffers the same fate, perhaps. If Tyrion is more loyal son than kind husband."

He had forgotten about the little bird by now. _She does have the kinder fate indeed._

"You should go to bed. It's cold." he said, an awkward attempt to be kind that she countered with a smile.

"I will just put another log on the fire."

She did not throw the log in like Sandor did whenever he had to. Carefully, she lay it on top of the burning pile, yellow flames only inches from her fingers. Sandor felt nervous despite himself.

She stood up. "I am not tired. And as you have to spend your night here anyway...Play with me. Cards, I mean. You said you would give me a chance to get even."

She was afraid of sleep. Nightmares. Sandor rarely had nightmares now but he remembered days in his father's keep when it had been different.

"You have a deck?" was all he asked.

The cards she produced were new, he noticed, the corners still clean-cut and without dog-ears. _She bought them to practice for this._ Somehow he found that endearing. The numbers and pictures were carefully drawn and coloured, the queens were all smiling grace, the knights handsome, the kings imposing. _Songs and card decks are the greatest liars._

"You give." he said, as they sat down at her table on the dainty wooden chairs. Somehow he felt anxious but did not know what for. Did he want to win? Did he want her to win? What would he ask of her if he won? _The truth. What happened._ That was what he wanted to know. _A kiss, an embrace..._ That was what he wanted, at least a part of him. _Tell me you care, at least a bit._ That was what he wanted to hear. All of it was pathetic.

"Play properly this time. I can tell when you let me win." she warned as she poured them each a cup of wine. There were two flagons, one held a heavy dark red, the other a light golden one, not something Sandor would drink, normally. She poured the red for him without asking, he noticed.

Then she gave out cards, seven for each, put the rest on a neat pile between them.

She won the first round, took his golden dragon with a silver seven-pointed star.

He won the second, saved his motley fool until the end and took her golden king. He heard her curse for the first time.

"Whoever made the rule that fools can take a king must have been a bloody fool himself."

"A wise fool at that. I shall be thankful," he grinned, though not for long.

She drew all the high cards from his hands early on and slammed her black stag on top of his red queen.

In the end, they each had three.

She put all dragons, stars, roses and stags away and shuffled the remaining cards. Four kings, four queens, four knights, and two fools. Seven cards for each. The fool was sometimes discarded, for many thought it disrespectful that he could beat a golden king, a silver queen and a black knight. He liked to include it, though, it was more of a challenge that way.

Sandor took up his cards. They were not bad. He had a golden king, a card that could only be taken with a fool, a silver knight or the red queen, the queen of love and beauty. He also had a silver knight, though, which meant that she had only one card against his king in the last round.

A fool could not end the game, so it must be played early on. The best part about this last round was that one knew the cards of the opponent if one had the wits the Gods gave a turnip. That was why Sandor had won against Boros Blount so often, the fat fool always lost out to him in the seventh round, no matter how drunk Sandor was. Blount had finally decided not to play against him which was unsuspectedly wise of him, but a pity indded for the pompous knight had been a secure source of gold.

Aliena played her first card. This time, she had given herself the red knight and sought to get it off her hand. Sandor took it with a red king. She was better now, without the boy drooling into her his calculations were correct, she had the red queen. And if she knew that he had a golden king...He would play it in the second last round, he decided. Her red queen by herself was useless, then.

When they had only two cards left, he played his golden king. She looked at him with surprise. Then she smiled.

"That was clever." she smiled. "But I play this game of kings for a long time now." Almost tenderly did she lay her red queen on top of his king.

Quickly, Sandor tried to remember which card she still had. He had thought she had expected him to play his king as his final card. But maybe she hadn't.

He put his last card on the table. When she smiled, he knew he had lost. It did not trouble him much. He wouldn't have been sure what to ask from her anyway.

Her golden Queen defeated his black Knight.

He smiled now. "I am not used to opponents who can still use their wits."

"I admit it freely, I had hoped you'd fall for the wine. Thank Gods I noticed halfway through that you were trying to trick me." She shook her head. "That was not very gallant at all."

"I'll trick you better next time." he grinned. "Now, what do you want?" Somehow, his heart raced in his chest as if he had just fought a battle not a card game.

She looked as if she felt the same, waited for a long moment, weighing her options. Then she said: "I want the truth from you."

Sandor was both disappointed and relieved.

"You might not like it." he warned.

She smiled, uneasily. Then she drank down her cup, her fourth, he thought, and got up. Wandered through the room. Gathered courage. She stood in front of him now,held his gaze. Sandor had to look up to her for once, a different perspective. Her face was soft in the candlelight, her eyes were bright and no wine phantoms dulled them. It struck him once again how beautiful she was, with her small nose, the impressive eyes that captured many with their shape and colour, with her full lips, the dark hair that was almost dry by now and fell to the small of her back in uneven natural waves.

She cleared her throat.

"Do I disgust you now?"

It was absurd. So absurd that he started to laugh but caught himself when he saw the expression on her face.

Sandor stood up, pinned her between himself and the table. He tucked a loose curl behind her ear, his fingers lingered there, he brushed over her cheekbone with his thumb, then his fingers wandered, touched the soft, tender flesh under her earlobe until his brushed against the silken collar of her nightgown.

She looked at him all the time, attentive and anxious. Her eyes were such an odd mix of blue and green and a hint of grey. For the first time, he noticed that they were greener around the black centre, or maybe that was the candlelight.

"Never." he replied. And did what he should have done a while ago.

Her lips taste differently tonight, of sweet wine but also of roses from her bath, and of beeswax mixed with honey. They were still soft and full though, and his body remembered the feeling well. This time was different. There was no fear, no fury in him and he could focus on her. She cupped his cheek, clean shaven and without a trace of blood and tears, and lay a hand on his upper arm, the gentlest of touches. Sandor wove his fingers through her hair, touched her neck, her face, her waist, her back. He had paid for all the kisses he ever received and now, he wanted his gold back. Had he known...Now, she parted her lips for him, her tongue found his and he no longer thought about anything else but this. He wanted to feel more of her but was aware at the same time that that would ruin this moment entirely. He savoured it, the intimacy, but then he broke the kiss. Took a step backwards. He did not know how long it had lasted, because it felt like an hour but at the same time, he felt as if he had closed eyes just a moment ago. Aliena smiled, her left hand still on his cheek, the other one on his shoulder.

"He would have your head for this. Our heads."

"He would be more creative." Sandor snorted and that made he grin.

But they both knew what she meant to say. This was a one-off. She did not want him to risk his head for her...and she wanted to keep hers as well. Sandor, again, had no choice. He would have left, left these buggering fools to themselves, the king he grew to despise, the gargoyle he loathed, all them buggering liars. But she would not and he knew that he could not convince her...and he knew he would not leave without her.

"You should sleep now, girl", he rasped, suddenly sober again. Dawn would soon come and he could go without sleep for a day but she couldn't.

"Don't call me 'girl'." Her mouth was unsmiling but her eyes betrayed her.

"Swan, then." he suggested.

"You may." She smiled. "Although I am a stag as well."

Sandor took his post by the door again, she brought him a cup of wine. And another kiss, merely a peck on the lips.

"Good night." There was regret in her eyes. This night was special but their days belonged to the king - and her nights, too, from now on, he remembered with dismay. Maybe he could convince her to leave this behind. He would think on it.

She slipped into bed in her thin nightgown and for a moment, Sandor felt desire so strong in his loins that he was almost tempted to give in. But then the moment was gone and he scolded himself for it. _Bloody fool. You think that's what she wants after that monster of a bastard forced himself upon her?_

She did not close her curtains and soon enough, he heard her even breath and knew that was asleep. Their short night was over and after a wave of disappointment, Sandor also felt relieved. He was not one for intimacy, for whispered words of affection and love letters and all that nonsense. And neither was she. They knew what they needed to know for now. She cared for him, somehow. And he was beyond all hope when it came to her. Strangely, he did not mind anymore.


	30. Chapter 30

**I'll just admit it freely: I am a sucker for reviews.**

 **So I finished another chapter, this is just a go-between between Sansa's wedding and Joffrey's wedding (which will be ch. 32)**

 **'Thank you' to those who took the time to review!**

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou:** You always manage to put a smile on my face with your reviews, so thank you!

 **Nyany4:** Thank you truly, for your detailed reviews! I will edit that "Sweet dreams" sequence, it was meant to be a nod to the "Nightmares" part from an earlier chapter (Kingsroad) but I think I have to hint at that more strongly. :D But really, thanks a lot.

 **Guhl:** I am happy you found the time to review, really, and I hope I can cheer you up a bit, exam time is horrible. Yes, I like this story more, too, at the moment, which is why the other update takes so long. :D Thank you, good luck for your exams, too!

 **ShinyRedPenny:** I'm actually quite honoured you like this because I follow a lot of your stories and love them! (By the way: I'm desperately waiting for a new Sansa/ Queen one-shot!) And thank you for going against your principle of reviewing only once! ;)

 **I hope you all like it although it's more of a filler/ wrap-up-loose-ends-chapter and please, review! It motivates me, as you can see :D**

* * *

 **The same night**

 **Cersei**

She sat in her solar, alone with a cup of wine, and for once she had cause to rejoice. Her _brother_ was married now and it was to be expected that her lord father would send him North once the Young Wolf was defeated. Jaime would come back and the dwarf would leave. _He can freeze to death in that castle for all I care._ Cersei remembered Winterfell well, a massive, gloomy fortress without the amenities of a Southern castle. In winter, it would be even more uncomfortable. But it had a library tower and Sansa was a pretty thing, albeit slower than Moon Boy and a terrible liar. She would never love him, no, but Tyrion would find someone else, a whore, no doubt. That vile little creature would find no love without gold, that was certain.

When she had been younger, Cersei might have pitied Sansa. But she herself had suffered just as much and no one had ever pitied her. _Kings are worst._ She had not cried during her wedding, no, Cersei had been strong, although it had been Rhaegar she had wanted, not Robert. Not once in all these years had she given Robert tears, not even that night when he had lain on top of her, stinking and sweating...when he had uttered the words under a cloud of wine breath, those words that had made her hate the North, the Starks, and most of all, her husband. Sometimes, when she felt brave, she even thought she hated her father for selling her like a young filly.

"Your Grace." A page boy came in, his head bent, his gaze lowered respectfully. He was comely, though not older than seventeen. Cersei liked the way he kept his head down. But she liked another face more… _Come back to me, Jaime. I need you._

"Yes?" At her words, the boy looked up. Cersei wore only a bedrobe and a nightgown, one of those she always wore for her brother. Her curls tumbled over her shoulders and she loved the look of desire in the boy's eyes. _I could be his mother, and yet, he desires me._ As of late, she noticed she needed more admiration. It was Jaime's fault, he had left her alone. A lion should mate with lions, she had always seen that plain enough.

"My Queen, there is a visitor for you." _At this time of the night?_ Excitement and dread mingled in her chest.

"Let him in."

It was the eunuch.

"Your Grace. The late nights become you." Cersei was in no mood for his useless flattery. The flash of interest and excitement was gone.

"What do you want, Varys?"

The eunuch sat down without being asked.

"It is your darling niece, Your Grace. I fear the king has finally given in to his affection and desire for his beloved cousin. And who can fault him?" The eunuch's voice was so soft that Cersei had to lean towards him to understand. A cloud of lavender and something else, sickenly sweet, wavered over to her. _Aliena._ She would not have thought it possible. Joffrey was a boy still, no man. She had always thought that he loved her like a little boy loved a woman.

"Is she hurt?" Cersei asked, noticing at the same time how telling that question was. "I mean, how is she? Many girls feel pain even after their deflowerings."

Aliena was a maiden. Had been. _How could I not see?_ Cersei remembered something Tyrion had said, back then when they had discussed the Tyrell wedding. _That vile dwarf was right._ It was a bitter thought.

"The little lady is well so far, I heard, a few bruises, nothing serious." _So far?_ Cersei had often wondered where Varys' information came from. It almost sounded as if he knew what happened in the king's chamber...But it could not be. There were no secret passages in the Holdfast.

Aliena had been Joffrey's closest companion since early childhood. She had four years on him, but there had been no other children her age so she had reverted to playing with her four year old cousin when she had come to King's Landing. The young prince had soon followed her like a lapdog. Cersei did not know a third of the secrets they shared. Only recently had she noticed that Joffrey did not think of her as a friend but as a woman, and the thought had shocked her. Aliena had always been devoted to him. She had planned to marry the stag to the lion, a clever plan it had been to those who knew the truth. But Robert didn't and he had ruined her plans like a boar stumbling over a laid dinner table.

Now her son was a man. And Cersei did not know what to do. He had always been- _cruel,_ a voice whispered but she fought it. _Difficult._ Aliena...the poor thing. _A few bruises, nothing serious._ Aliena was not delicate but she had not been prepared for this, of that Cersei was certain. And young girls…

"When she goes back to her chamber, I want a guard with her all night. I don't care whether it is indecent, I want a guard with her. Not Trant, nor that useless Tyrell. And not Blount either, as long as he has no white cloak, he will not come near any royal family member."

"Ser Balon Swann and Ser Osmund Kettleback guard the king's royal apartments and the king's own sworn shield guards the bedchamber door. Shall it be one of these?"

It would have to be a white cloak. Aliena was a pretty thing, _a man's fantasy_ her uncle had called her once, with a tongue heavy with wine. Cersei was not sure whether he had recognised his own niece. Cersei did not trust a common guard to keep his hands to himself and his cock in his breeches when she was almost naked in her bed. Ser Osmund was hers, and he desired Cersei, she saw it in his eyes. Yet, a night in a newly deflowered maiden's bedroom might sway his affections. Aliena's cousin was half in love with her, had gone so far as to hint at marriage before he had earned his white cloak. Now, though...he was a dutiful man for sure, and his vows forbade him to lie with a woman. The Hound was Joffrey's sworn shield and he would never touch her. Cersei was not fond of the rough-tongued brute but he _was_ loyal to the king and would never touch her. Sometimes, she even thought he disliked the girl. Yes, he was the safest choice but also the best warrior. And Joffrey needed the finest swordsman in front of his own chamber door. _The battle is over. I should not show my fear anymore._

"The Hound will do for tonight."

Varys nodded gravely.

"Of course young love is a sweet thing, Your Grace, yet, I fear the king's pretty betrothed would not take this well. For now, the song can be unsung, the tale untold. But if their sweet liaison continues, sooner or later, the rumours will reach the ear of our fine Lord of Highgarden and he might not be pleased."

Cersei knew what he hinted at. Joffrey would have to be tamed. Aliena would be spoiled goods for every lord, but Cersei did not care about that. Sooner or later, she would be Joff's wife, she had no doubt. Her son would take what he wanted as he had shown. _A true king._ But for now, it had to be kept secret. The Tyrells would not like it at all and they could not risk losing them, not now.

"A guard in front of her chamber door, then." Cersei decided.

"Would men not wonder why now, all of a sudden?" _True._

"What do you suggest then, Lord Varys? I am tired." _Of you._

"Talk to His Grace. Now that his thirst was quenched he will see sense. His bride is fair to look upon-"

"Joffrey cares nothing for that girl. She was Renly's before him, and the Gods only know whom she has spread her legs for. It is Aliena he wants. But I shall talk to him, and to Aliena, too. Go now. But I expect you to inform me when she has gone back to her chambers." _And which state she is in._

It would have all been easier had Robert listened to her. But he had thought his sister's girl too good for his own son, too good for the future king. And now, Joffrey had grown impatient. It was just natural. Cersei hoped that he had not hurt her too badly. It would be better for everyone if Aliena stayed in love with him.

 **The next day**

 **Aliena**

When she woke up, he was gone. The sun was already up and she felt lazy. Quickly, she dressed, ignoring the dull pain in her shoulder and legs. She was not bleeding anymore, that was good.

As she dressed by herself, her thoughts went back to the last night, unbidden. She had brought herself into a complicated situation, a difficult situation. And him, too. By now, she was done with denying what she felt for him, there was no use in it. And he knew it, too. The way he looked at her told her that he harboured feelings for her, too, the way he had kissed her- But he was a soldier, first and foremost. He had no romantic notions, of that she was sure. So whatever it was, it had no future. She forced herself to admit it, although it hurt her more than the bruises and her torn skin.

He cared for her. Liked her. That was more than she could have asked for. She should be content with it. There were no kisses for her anymore, not from him at least. If Joffrey found out, and he would find out at some point if she allowed herself to become sloppy, then Sandor would be killed, no matter how brave he was, how fearless, how skilled with a sword. There was a long way between the Holdfast and the Western gate, and ten thousand Gold Cloaks, too. _And I would die as well, though I am sure Joffrey would think of something especially terrible._

No, she would have to keep her fingers off him, and her lips, too. But she could still see him, talk to him, she would endure Joff's company to be able to enjoy his. _I sound a fool. Worse, I sound a girl._ He always called her 'girl'. That or 'little swan'. He did have ten years on her, more or less, but she was a woman grown. _Aye, now more than ever._ When it came to men, Aliena had always been certain that she had an effect on them. Sooner or later, most of them would fall like Harrenhal under King Aegon I. Some men were immune to her charms though, her uncle Stannis, for one. And Sandor was, too. Aliena was no fool, he had not fallen for her the way other men had. In truth, she did not quite understand why he had grown to like her enough to kiss her, to stand between her and Joff. But when she allowed herself to think about it, she could not fight the smile, nor the bubbly feeling in her stomach.  
Aliena had just started to lace up her corset when Kenna came in.

"Hush, my lady, let me do it." Her maidservant had strong arms but she was also careful not to touch the bruises on her shoulders and chest.

"What will you wear?" Kenna asked. There were few dresses that covered her up to the throat.

"The one I wore for Maiden's Day last year." _I will never go to the sept for Maiden's Day again._

"As you wish, my lady."

It was a pretty gown, all white. A lace underdress with lace sleeves and a high collar went under a gown with long sleeves that were slashed to the elbow and showed the sheer lace underneath. It was embroidered in gold and was closed with a heavy golden belt, almost a piece of armour. A part of the lace underdress was visible above the neckline of the gown, and it was not so modest as it once had been. _They must have grown since last year._ Kenna saw it, too.

"Not a gown fit for Maiden's Day anymore, my lady. But it covers the bruises well."

It did.

"The swan necklace Joffrey gave me, please. The black and white one." Kenna fastened the necklace around her neck. Aliena looked _pure_. And beautiful. _Hopefully_ he _will like it, too._

"Your hair, my lady?" Kenna asked.

Aliena shook her long tresses. He liked her hair, at least she thought so. He had buried his hands in it yesterday-

"My lady?" Kenna had a worried look on her face.

"I shall leave it loose like this."

The old servant shook her head. "Your mother wouldn't have allowed you to. It is indecent. But the Queen does, too, so I think it is not considered indecent _here_." The hard line of her mouth told Aliena what she thought of that.

"The Queen has invited you to break her fast with you, too." Kenna informed her. _Of course she would._ Varys and his little birds must have told her and for once, Aliena was thankful for that. Cersei would tell Lord Tywin and then, she would be safe for a while.

She hurried to the Queen's chambers.

"Good morning, Your Grace." she curtsied with grace and humility.

"Aliena. You look quite unharmed." Cersei observed. "Come and sit."

Aliena did as she was bid.

"How are you, sweetling?" For a moment, Aliena thought that she saw sympathy in the Queen's eyes.

"Very well, Your Grace, thank you."

But Cersei was not content.

"It should not have come to this. Of course, no one may know. The Tyrells would be deeply offended."

"I will not say a word."

"Neither will Joff. My father has spoken to him." Servants brought their food on marble trays. Cersei paused until they left the room again.

"I do not intend to suffer the Tyrells' insolence forever. As soon as this war is won, they will be gone, I promise. You still love Joff, I hope?"

She had sung that song so often that it almost felt like the truth.

"He was my first, Your Grace, and there is no man I would have rather given my maidenhead to." _Well, one, perhaps._ "The king and I are very close, and even more so after this."

Cersei nodded. "Yes, he always had a soft spot for you. I heard he hurt you." There was no sympathy in her voice now. "He was always difficult. And he has little control over his strength." _Or over his temper, his crossbow, his wits._ Joffrey was not used to being restrained, for neither father nor mother had ever lessoned him. That, in combination with a natural lack of judgement and wits, made for a king that was worse than wildfire.

"I know, my queen. It is his temper I love him for. Forgive me, but of all your children, he is the only true lion." Cersei would like that. She saw a lot of herself in her eldest son and thought herself the last lion of the Rock.

"He is. And the little rose will soon find out." Aliena knew that Joffrey would soon find out that roses had thorns. But by now, her bad conscience was gone. It had left her last night. Joffrey's death was for the good of the realm and for her own good, now, too.

Cersei took a swallow of wine while Aliena drank some water mixed with lemon juice.

"Once the roses have left, I intend to have you married to Joff." That prospect was as bitter as her drink. "It is what he always wanted and you said you dreamt of it, too. Is that still so?"

Cersei and Tywin Lannister wanted to marry her claim, her Baratheon blood, to the Lannister king. BUt Joffrey...he was not the kind of boy who kept a toy he had played with. Aliena would have a hard time keeping him drawn to her, she feared.

"It is, Your Grace", she said, almost shily, knowing that it would never happen. The king would be shrouded and buried before his fourteenth nameday. The Queen of Thorns would not let him between Margaery's legs, that much was certain.

Cersei nodded and gave her an appraising look over her jewelled cup. "You will not have an easy life."

 _Oh, well, that will be a change._

"A queen's life is never easy, Your Grace. Kings have a temper, as my uncle had."

"Robert had the temper of an aurochs." Cersei replied spitefully. "Joffrey is more lion than stag. But what are you? If you are a swan, he will tear you to piece before long, if you are a stag, you will meet the same fate later...but you can be a lion. You grew up among us, you have learned from me, haven't you? Only a lioness can ever stand up against the king of the forests."

"I have learned from you, Your Grace, and I shall learn more. I can be what I have to be." Once Joffrey was gone, Cersei was Aliena's handle on power and she could not afford to lose her grip on her.

"We women are far more flexible. Honour, lust, thirst for blood and hunger for glory. Men are weak and predictable. Once you find a way to satisfy one or two of their needs, you have a grip on them. Forget that not, Aliena." Cersei warned her.

"I wish to please His Grace in everything I do. I am his loyal relative, his loyal servant, and if he wants me, I can be his loyal wife. I do not seek to play with him. Other men are easily fooled but Joff was always different." Crueler than the others, with a frightening thirst for blood and no honour.

Cersei smiled. "Robert was a fool. Joffrey is not. He knows what he has in you that is why he treats you like he does." _I do not want to know how he'd treat me if he hated me, then._

Cersei had more to say. "You say that other men are easily fooled and no doubt you have broken some hearts." _Whose heart do you want, Cersei, to go with your soft boiled egg?_

"Some, Your Grace. But I promise, none of them were important." That made the queen laugh.

"This one is. I fear my father wishes to marry me. And if he wants to give me to that crippled fool of Highgarden-" She ground her teeth. "You shall accompany the Queen of Thorns to Highgarden after the wedding." This was Lord Tywin's plan, Aliena would have sworn, to make sure that Joffrey would not commit another breach of diplomacy. He would bed Margaery in her absence, and plant in her the heir the realm needed. Only then could Aliena return.

"If that is your wish, Your Grace."

"It is. And while you are there...The cripple has a heart as every other man, he has eyes and desires. Do you understand?"

"I will make sure he loses his heart, Your Grace. He enjoys riding, I heard, and books. When I have left, he will be heartbroken and refuse to marry even the most beautiful woman in the kingdom."

The Queen's smile was lazy and satisfied. "You did for that Royce boy, too, I remember." The look she gave Aliena now was favourable.

"Yes, I think you have learned a lot from me."

 _How to be a whore in looks and words, if not in actions, yes, Cersei, I have learned that lesson and thank you for it._ But still, Willas Tyrell would make an ally that was not to be sniffed at. _I would have to leave._ And there was not even the slightest chance that Cersei would part from the best sword of the Kingsguard to complete Aliena's personal guard. _More like I'll end up with Blount and a younger Kettleback._

But that would never happen. Joffrey would die and Margaery would marry Tommen. Then there was no need for her to go to the Reach. Margaery and Olenna Tyrell were powerful allies as well, although, or maybe even because, they wore skirts. _Margaery has taken a liking to me, and the Queen of Thorns is ready to trust me, if not to like me._ She had won much with her truthful words during their supper.

She broke her fast with the Queen on soft boiled eggs and white bread, bacon and cold roast, summer fruit and whipped cream and no other word was spoken about the last night or the Reach.

When the plates were cleared away, Cersei dismissed her: "Go now, Aliena. The king wants to hunt with you and that Tyrell girl. He waits for you in his chambers."

Cold dread settled in her stomach. She could not look him in the eye. She could not abide his touch, his moist kisses, his stares. _And yet, I must._ She was of the Stormlands, the blood of dragon kings and storm kings. He was only a cruel boy. _I will not let him rule me._ She held her head high when she entered, forced herself to look at him. He had the audacity to smile at her.

"Aliena! Is this not a fine morning?" He was splendidly dressed in red velvet and black silk but Aliena remembered him naked, remembered his hands on her, how he had pressed her face down on a pillow until she had had no air left in her lungs and her heart had pounded in her chest wild with fear. Those memories wouldn't help her now. _Smile._ And she forced her mouth to curve, her eyes to sparkle. Yet, in her chest, she was as cold as an Other.

"It is, Your Grace. Perhaps the finest morning I have ever woken up to." Perhaps it was, ironically.

"There shall be better ones even, I promise." _Don't make promises you cannot keep._

"Although for now, my sweet lady, I have duties. Kingly duties to my betrothed."

Joffrey touched her cheek ever so slightly but Aliena stiffened under his touch and noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye. Of course. _He_ was present, too, to witness this. The Gods had no mercy.

"I understand, my king. I shall be silent and never speak a word about it as not to offend your lady." That did not please the king.

"My grandfather says it must be kept secret, until after the wedding. And once I got Margaery pregnant with a prince, I shall give you a royal bastard." _I will never have your bastard._ Kenna, the good soul, had bought the tansy and wormwood and the rest on the market a while ago and had brewed a kettle of moon tea yesterday. Aliena had drunk it all like a thirsting man in the desert of Dorne. Tansy tea was best drunk right after the seed was spilled, for the later it was taken, the more harm it could do. When the moon's blood had not come and the child was already growing, the tea could kill the mother with the child, Kenna had explained.

"I can scarcely wait." Her reply lacked the enthusiasm she could normally summon but the king did not seem to notice.

"You look different now, too", he decided. "You look a woman." Aliena saw that he was not done with her yet. _Gods, please, hear me for once. Make him listen to his grandfather, just for a fortnight._

"I feel different, too, Your Grace." That was not even a lie.

Joffrey kissed her and this time, Aliena did not go stiff. She put a hand on the boy's chest, to make sure that she could still push him away.

When she broke the kiss, the king's eyes were dark again.

"I heard we will go hunting?" she asked. "With your lady betrothed?"

Joffrey nodded. "Yes, before noon. We will have our lunch outside, too. The servants can roast the hares I will shoot and there is talk of a boar in the Kingswood, too." _A boar. Go for it, Your Grace, as your "father" did._

"The old king did for a boar, too and paid with his own life." HIs voice was a low rasp, and she could hear the rage underneath, like fire burning under black iron. Joffrey looked at his sworn shield.

"My father was a fool." he said, the ever insolent son. "Everyone knows it. I am a better hunter than him, and I am not a drunkard."

Sandor grinned but it looked more like a grimace.

"Aye. A boar hunt it shall be then." _He wants him dead._ Aliena realised with astonishment. He meant to provoked him.

Joffrey looked uneasy.

"Perhaps I will wait until it's grown. It makes for a better hunt."

"And when it's old, it'll be slower, too." His laugh was rasping, like steel against a grater.

As tempted as she was, Joffrey could not die now, and not like this. It would mean Sandor's head and perhaps hers as well.

"We shan't wait for so long, Clegane." she smiled, hoped he would get her meaning.

She thought he did but his eyes were better guarded than the walls of Storm's End, and they were just as grey. Yesterday, though- The boy's unpleasant voice cut through her sweet memory.

"Yes, Dog. We shall hunt that beast down soon enough." Joffrey's laugh was like a bell, high and ringing. _Why, I love a good prophesy._

 _ **~o~**_

The hunting party was bigger than normally. Margaery with her ladies was there but Sansa wasn't. Ever since her wedding, Lady Sansa _Lannister_ was not invited to Tyrell gatherings anymore and this was clearly one. The green outnumbered the red by far. _All these knights will be invisible between the trees._ Given Joffrey's talent with a crossbow, chances were that one of them would have to pull an arrow out of his chest sooner or later.

Aliena counted no fewer than four white cloaks. Meryn Trant seemed to prefer this duty to guarding and beating little girls, for the scowl he wore was not as grim as usually. Sandor's face was hidden by that horrible helmet but Aliena thought she felt his eyes on her. Loras Tyrell was prettier than every maiden present, including his fair sister. Aliena's cousin, Balon, was best suited to the white cloak of all Kingsguards, and the way he looked over to her told Aliena that he had not forgotten last night. _Neither have I. Neither will I, ever._ There had never been a night like that. The worst pain followed by the greatest delight. Her eyes wandered over to _him_ and this time, he met her gaze.

As much as Aliena had loved her pure maiden gown, it was not fit for riding. Instead, she had brought out her finest riding habit. It had a jerkin of black velvet embroidered with golden stags, and a skirt that was entirely made of cloth of gold. The heavy scratchy weave would gleam in the autumn sunlight.

Her hair rested in a snood of golden lace and her little black riding hat was secured with two matching swan hat pins. She looked the heir of Storm's End, and pretty besides. _Hopefully he thinks so, too._ Compared to the little Tyrell rose, she was a daisy.

Margaery had gone for green and gold, with a pretty little riding hat and a golden hairnet set with emeralds. The green went better with fair hair, Aliena decided.

"Is this not a beautiful morning, Aliena?" Margaery embraced her like an old friend. The Tyrell girl and her _were_ friends since their hunting trip a week ago. Fast friends...and competitors for Joffrey's favour. But today, Margaery would not take her place, that much was certain. Joffrey was sickeningly gallant to Aliena, whispered into her ear until her hair stood on edge. But she suffered it, for what had yesterday been worth if she did not use his good mood to her favour? She had not sacrificed _that_ for nothing.

Margaery soon noticed that the king was not inclined to leave his cousin alone so she made the best of it and joined the two of them in their conversation with good humour.

Soon, they reached a little clearing and the whole party waited, still as stone. A doe came to drink from the small brook. Hare and rabbits bustled about, squirrels as well, and Aliena saw a badger's black and white fur behind a tree at the far end of the clearing. Joffrey readied his crossbow silently. Aliena saw his fingers throw the lever and the arrow whirred through the air. Of course he missed the doe but one of the hare was not so lucky.

The arrow had alerted the animals of the forest, the doe disappeared with long, elegant leaps, the badger hid in his burrow. Only rabbits and hare were foolish enough to scamper from one end of the clearing to the other.

Joffrey was disappointed but the doe was out of sight and he was not patient enough to hunt it down.

"Bring me rabbits for our feast." He looked up at the sky. "And I want a few birds, too."

Tere was a flight of geese overhead in their usual V-formation.

The hunters almost fell off their horses in their enthusiasm to wrench their bows free and get an arrow out of their quiver.

Aliena's arrows hung from the saddle in front of her, so she was the first to make a shot. Her arrow never missed its aim but shooting flying birds was difficult for they were far quicker than it looked. Her Swann cousin next to her aimed at the geese, too. Aliena released her arrow before him, it shot upwards, the golden and black feathers a dark splotch on the light grey sky. She saw her arrow hit a bird, the poor creature fell down without grace, while up at the sky, another bird took its place in the formation. _What a perfect similtude. Just like the royal court._

"A good shot." Joffrey at her side had not even tried to shoot a bird. Instead, a few hare had stopped scampering and lay still with arrows protruding from their tiny, furry bodies.

Margaery did not have a bow but now, Joffrey showed her how to use a crossbow. He put his arm around her to position her fingers correctly but if the lady had hoped for some sign of affection or desire, she had miscalculated. The boy king found nothing more arousing than shooting arrows at living things and see something die.

The page boys and squires fetched the fallen birds and dead hares. They would form the main component of their meal later.

"We ride on!" The king announced loudly. "To the glade where my father used to hold his hunting feasts."

Aliena, Joffrey and Margaery formed the three-headed vanguard. Perhaps she should leave the king to Margaery or it would be said later that the Lady Aliena was jealous and possessive and tried to steal the king from his rightful betrothed. And she had enough of her king for now.

Joffrey clearly didn't like it when she announced that her mare seemed to halt and that she would stay behind to check the hooves for stones. But the king also remembered his grandfather's words and whatever old Tywin had told and promised his grandson, it seemed to work. He nodded.

"My lady and I will wait for you with the picnic." he promised. "Don't stay away for too long."

Aliena left the main path, formed by the hooves of many noble horses. She loved being in the kingswood by herself. The trees seemed to breathe and forests had a language of their own: the rustling of dead leaves when an animal fled from her unseen, the song of birds, the wind whispering in the leafy branches of the trees.

"My lady?"

Ser Balon looked good in his white plate, with the wool cloak covering the rear of his handsome bloodbay destrier.

"Balon." she smiled. "I am quite safe, there is no need to protect me." _Isn't it ridiculous that I am safer in the kingswood than in the Red Keep?_

Balon looked uncertain.

"About yesterday, my lady…" He paused. "Aliena, are you well?" _Better than ever._

"Very well, thank you kindly, cousin."

"Did he-" again, he did not finish his question. _He used to be more eloquent, really._

He took her silence for an answer she had not intended to give. His face grew bitter with regret.

"I should have intervened. I should have protected you." _Should have, would have, could have._ No one had ever protected her. Robert had tried, aye. But he had had little power over his court and his family and he had failed. Aliena had grown used to it, to defending herself, to being alone. The only one who had ever protected her, saved her- She remembered how _he_ had stepped between her and Joffrey, despite the fact that it meant his head.

"There was no need to protect me, Balon." she forced herself to say sweetly. But her cousin didn't find that consoling.

"No need?" Again, he paused. "I asked Robert for your hand, did you know that?" She did. She had refused him herself. But that was not something he would like to hear.

"I didn't, no. You are a Kingsguard now-"

He seemed bitter.

"I had nothing to offer you, the king said. Ever since did I want to join the Kingsguard."

"And you are the best of them." It was the truth, in more ways than one.

His laugh rang hollow though.

"We are meant to protect the royal family. But how shall we protect someone from the king?" Sandor had cared not for his vows, only for her.

"The king would never harm me." She smiled. "Balon, it is very chivalrous of you, and yet, there is no need for chivalry." She laid a hand upon his arm to reassure him and maybe she could have softened him if not for -.

"Swann." It was _his_ voice. She did not even have to look up. For a moment she thought he meant her but it was the white knight Sandor looked down at from his midnight courser.

"Clegane." Balon inclined his head courteously but Aliena knew that he did not like him. Feared him.

"Interrupting, am I?" he laughed but it sounded wooden in Aliena's ears. Balon's hand moved towards his sword belt but then he bethought.

"Not at all." He climbed back onto his horse. "The lady has no need of me." _Men and their pride._ The Storm and Marcher lords were worst, Aliena had found. Tonight, she would have to go and apologise. Then he would forget it ever happened.

Balon left her alone with the Hound who had by now dismounted.

"That one has cast an eye on you", he rasped. _Not really._ He said he had asked for her hand but his actions spoke of infatuation and nothing more.

"He is a Kingsguard now, Balon would never-" Too late did she notice that it was unwise to use her cousin's first name. _He is jealous._ Somehow she liked that. And hated herself for it.

"A fine white knight, isn't he? Well suited to this cloak, everyone agrees."

Sandor stood in front of her now. He held his helmet in one hand and the bright midday sun bathed his scars in golden light. The craters in the burnt flesh glistened wetly and at his jaw, she caught a glimpse of the bone shining through. And yet, she was not disgusted. His grey eyes were shadowed by his heavy brow, one of them stared at her from a mass of twisted red and charred flesh. And still, the look he gave her...

"He is well suited to it." It was the truth and he was the one who always criticised her for lying. _You shall have the truth from me, I will try._

His eyes were cool as autumn rain. "You think his vows are going to stop him? What do you think, how many white cloaks will you find on the silk street, huh?" _Yours, for sure._ That stung worse than anything Joffrey had done to her.

"Not Balon's." He had no right to be angry with her. She had hoped for a smile and a few whispered words, mayhaps even a quick kiss. _He is no knight and you are not the princess in the tower._ She had to fight these silly notions.  
"Damn right." His laugh sounded hollow. "You'd find mine, that's what you're thinking, isn't it? I'm fucking whores while you're fucking the king." It couldn't have hurt more if he had sunken his mailed fist into her stomach. She saw the regret plain on his face the moment he uttered the words but it didn't stop the tears from coming.

Angrily, she cast down her eyes to hide them.

"Swan-" he reached out for her but then he lost heart. His hand hovered over the ground between them.

She looked up at him again and saw the despair in his eyes. _He didn't mean it. He was hurt._ He was not used to this anymore than she was and his uncertainty besoothed her-

"I don't." she whispered hoarsely and the smile he gave her was half pain, half relief.

"I've been there, right in front of the bloody door." Now his words sounded bitter. He swallowed. "But don't think I - I don't -" _Go to whores anymore._

"You stammer like a fool." she smiled, reached up to pull his face down to her, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed her lips against his. He let go of his helmet, she heard the soft _thump_ when steel met soil. With his free hands he pulled her towards him, only for a short moment. Then he broke the kiss.

"The king will be looking for his favourite toy." There was no sharpness in his voice, it was only a correct observation. She needed to go back or she would risk displeasing her king. And then, it would have all been for nothing.

Aliena needed no help to mount. Once she had wrapped her knee around the pommel of her ridiculous side saddle, and draped her skirts over the rear of her mare, she noticed that he stared at her.

"You look good." It was the least flattering compliment she had ever received. But it made her smile like no eloquent hymn of praise ever could.

"I bet Syrax and I are there first." She grinned. "Stranger's getting old."

That made him laugh, really laugh.

"What, you and your little dancer? You'd lose, swan, even if I gave you a head start."

Without warning, she pressed her heels into Syrax's sides and her mare shot through the forest like lightning. Soon she heard Stranger's thundering hooves not far behind her. Her mare was quick and light and nimble but Stranger was stronger and bigger and for every step he made, Syrax had to make two. She thought she heard Sandor laugh at her side so she gave her horse its head and the mare flew through the forest until the trees and leaves around her was only a blur of brown and green.

The forest thinned out and Aliena saw the green glade in front of her. She took up the reins again and the horse slowed down.

"I won." She grinned, as soon as he fell in beside her.

"Where is the joy in overtaking you?" he asked, though quietly. "I did quite like the sight."

Aliena was certain that he saw her blush but he didn't comment on it and soon, they reached the royal hunting party. The glade was huge, measured about a mile in diameter. There were a few forlorn trees here and there, most of them had discarded their leaves already and left a bed of brown and red and yellow at their feet.

On one of these beds the royal party had made their resting spot on blankets of velvet and fine wool. Joffrey wore a grim expression. _I have lost him._ It was hard to balance everything out.

"Where _were_ you? And you, too?" He stared at them both. "You were supposed to fetch her, not delay her, dog."

"It was my fault, Your Grace", she said before Sandor could make a reply. "I thought I knew a shortcut...the one we used to take, do you remember? But I couldn't find it and got lost."

He was still not appeased.

"Is that so, dog?"

Aliena did not dare to turn around. Not a look should give them away.

"Aye. Your little fool led me through undergrowth and scrub, I had to chop my bloody way through it." _He is a good liar._ His face gave nothing away, she had noticed that before. But even his voice didn't, apart from a hint of feigned anger.

His dog's lie calmed the king.

"I remember that path well", he said now. "We will take it on the way back, you and I alone", the king decided.

"And some guards, of course. Your royal person is too important to ride alone." _I do not want to be alone with you. Not again._

Joffrey rattled his sword in its fine leather scabbard. As far as Aliena knew, it was only decoration. She would be surprised if he knew how to hold it properly.

"We will need no guards as long as I have this", he boasted. "But ladies are often frightful. My dog shall accompany us, and Ser Meryn."

If Lady Margaery thought it impolite of her future husband to leave her alone in the forest, she did not show it.

"Aliena!" she called out from the blanket of green velvet. "You must try the roasted hare. The one that His Grace shot himself."

 _How would you know the difference?_ But she had to admit that Margaery knew how to please the king. In time, she might perhaps succeed in taking her place at Joff's side, but if she guessed correctly, time was not something that Joffrey had in plenty.

She sat down next to the soon-to-be queen and took a cup of wine and a plate of hare and vegetables from a serving boy. Sandor sat with the other guards by now, tearing at a hare leg with his teeth. They lived in two different worlds.

"I find hunting so exciting!" Margaery smiled. "I never learned how to shoot an arrow but His Grace has taught me well. I think I shall try on my own next time." She smiled at Aliena. _Next time, aye._

"I am sure you will not miss your target." Aliena smiled back. "We women often have sharper eyes."

The ride home was long and tedious. Joffrey boasted of his success and hunting skills and as she was his only companion, it fell to Aliena to praise where reasons for praise were hard to find. They reached the stableyard before the other members of the riding party. It was indeed a shortcut. They had just dismounted when Joffrey pressed his wet lips on hers once more, for all to see in the middle of the yard. Aliena felt the panic rising in her, disgust. Forcing herself to be gentle, she pushed him away.

"After my wedding, you may visit me again." The king said and Aliena's lips curved into a false smile. _After your wedding, I shall visit your grave._

"I am counting the days until we are united in flesh again, Your Grace." Sometimes, it shocked her how easy the lies rolled off her tongue, especially now.

"In my time, a king did not leave his lady betrothed in a forest on her own to ride through undergrowth with his cousin." Lady Olenna Tyrell leant on her cane heavily.

"Your good old days are long over, my lady." Joffrey remarked. "And my future Queen is well protected." he pointed out.

To Aliena, he added, without lowering his voice: "That old crone will leave right after the wedding. Old people bore me. They all talk about their time, the olden days. I am young and I am the king. I am important, not what happened a century ago."

"A young king should have a young court, I agree." she smiled.

While Joffrey waited in the yard for his betrothed, Aliena led her horse into the stables. The smell of straw and hay and horse shit was a welcome change from Joffrey's scent. It took a while until her eyes had grown used to the darkness. The stableboy took the saddle and headgear and left her alone with her moonlight mare. She had kissed him right here, not a moon's turn past, she remembered as she stroked her mare. And how much had changed! And yet, shared moments and kisses, like those today, were risky. She loved the way her heart raced when he was there, the excitement of the stolen moments of intimacy, the sneaking looks and hidden messages. Perhaps the secretiveness was not so bad. It slowed them down and in all truth, Aliena did not know what she wanted, what she expected. _Or what he wants._ She knew him better now, but still, he was a closed book to her. _I shall read him, page after page._


	31. Chapter 31

**I am so sorry! I still have two exams to sit but I promise, after next week, I'll update at least thrice a week.**

 **As always, I would like to thank those who took the time to review!**

 **Nyany4 and hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou: You two really keep me going, I'm always happy to read what you have to say, thank you both _a lot_!**

 **TheOneKrafter, I thank you for reviewing!**

* * *

 **King's Landing, the first day of the new century, 300AC**

 **Sandor**

Weddings were, in and of themselves, tedious affairs. The only thing that made them bearable was the wine. But today, not even a whole barrel of wine could lift his mood.

A ceremony in the Great Sept with a thousand people. A dinner of 77 courses. He was on duty only for the breakfast in the ballroom and the ceremony in the sept but he and his fellow 'brothers' would wear mail and breastplate even during the feast.

The little queen's brother, that sweet smelling pansy, and Trant were on duty for the feast and Sandor did not envy them.

He fastened his white cloak and descended the stairs of the Sword Tower. He still felt out of place, even after a year as a Kingsguard.

In the yard, he met his brother, the one he had chosen, not the one he had been cursed with. Balon Swann was a true knight, everyone agreed. He _was_ honest, that at least Sandor liked about him.

"Clegane." The knight greeted him curtly. He was not hard to look at, Sandor admitted, not only because no scars disfigured his face. He had hair the colour of wet sand that would go well with her seagreen eyes. Balon Swann was a grown man, not a little boy, with a square face, a broad chest and arms thick with muscle. But Sandor could have cut through him with his left hand while taking a piss with the right and he took solace in that thought. _She never wanted him. He is too soft for her._

Sandor nodded briskly in response.

"What happened yesterday in the woods-" the knight started.

"You're welcome."

That caught the man off guard. "What?"

"The king likes his little toy. And he doesn't like it if others want to play with it. I saved your bloody head, you're welcome." He had to suppress a grin. The knight's startled expression put him in a far better mood.

"I didn't-, I mean, I don't-" Balon Swann swallowed. "I am a Kingsguard." he said then, gravely and in a tone that told Sandor that his little game ended here.

"So am I." he grunted. " _Brother._ "

Balon Swann was too well-bred to give a harsh reply and together, they made their way over to the Holdfast without another word.

As always, his eyes looked for her first. She sat on the old Queen's right, a place of honour. For the Sept, she wore a demure gown of silver silk, and hid her hair under a silver net set with gems. She looked as pure as a septa. Once again, Sandor was uncomfortably aware of the difference between them: She up there with the Queen, beautiful and sweet and innocent - he down here, an ugly man if there ever was one, feared by all, respected by some, despised by most, loved by no one. _Maybe not by no one._ He never put the thought into words, never allowed himself to think about it at all, but sometimes the notionwas in his head like a cloud, shapeless somehow, like fog, but persistent as Tanda Stokeworth.

She turned her head, seemingly coincidentally, and her eyes met his. She could not see his face, only his helmet. _Some would say it's a better sight anyway._ The hint of a smile ghosted over her face, then she turned her head back to the Queen who spoke to her intently.

He was in a better mood now. Standing in his corner by the door for an hour, then in the sept for two, suddenly didn't sound so bad anymore.

The king was eager to open his wedding gifts, like the spoilt brat he was, and Sandor didn't even try to feign interest. Joffrey was pleased with most gifts, delighted with some, and angry about the imp's token of respect. A book. Sandor could have prophesied that outcome if the halfman had asked him. He wasn't even sure whether the boy could read properly. Aliena read things out for him most of the time.

 _She_ got him a longbow of golden wood from the Summer Islands, its ends gilded and decorated. The arrows had feathers of red and gold. She knew her king well enough though, and had added a crossbow, too, of the same wood. He tried it out and almost impaled Trant, who ducked down just quickly enough. One of the silver mirrors was dented by the arrow but the guests applauded as if the boy had performed a great deed.

Soon enough, they left for the great sept in a huge procession led by the king and his Kingsguard on horseback and his little bride in a litter of gilded twining roses right behind him. Aliena rode in the Queen's litter that followed, something she didn't like, surely. But the smallfolk loved her well, better than the king and his little wife, and today, she should not stand in the new queen's light, so the curtains remained drawn.

The smallfolk loved their new queen well, cheered for her as she gave them her blessing from her litter. _Fools._ Sandor thought scornfully. _She did nothing for you. Her oaf of a father opened the Roseroad, aye, but only after he had it closed._ They were all lackwits, those who stood here and cheered for her. It had been the little swan who had given them alms and bread, ointments and blessings for sick children. Sandor still remembered his irrational fear when she had not been in the yard that day, the day of the riot. She had been unharmed, though, walking around in her white gown like the Maiden herself. _A maiden no more._ And she wasn't little anymore either. This year, she would turn eighteen. Soon people would ask questions why she wasn't married and sooner or later, the old lion would give her to one lord or another. Sandor was no fool, he knew that even if she, by some fit of nature or fate, or whatever one was to call it, felt for him the same odd way, she would never be allowed to show it. She was meant for some lord or king, even though she did not want to marry. Men ruled and men decided. A woman did as she was told. He had never cared much for _rules_ but she had to live by them. _Not if she came with me. I could keep her safe._ Safe, aye. But he could never give her what she wanted and there was no use in hopeless _fantasies._ Sandor tried to clear his head. _It will never be, time to accept that._

But as he rode past the royal litter to keep the smallfolk away, he saw her face through a narrow gap in the curtains, she smiled at him, and hope blossomed in his chest like a rare flower from the Summer Islands. _Fool, fool, fool,_ he thought every time Stranger's hooves touched the hard baked earth, but it was a merry rhythm.

The Sept was crowded, lords and ladies and fine knights in their best attire filled the rows, the smell of perfume and sweat mingled with the scent of incense and the stink of the city. Sandor took his place by the great door. He was not sure when he had last been in a sept, before the little bird's wedding. _Perhaps never._ His mother had beieved in the Gods, she had read out to him from the Book of the Seven. He did not remember her face well but sometimes, he remembered ehr voice, soft and sweet and very quiet, as if she was always whispering. She had been of frail health.

The bride was led in by her father, a fat man who looked as if he had never fought a battle in his life. She was a pretty thing, slim and small-breasted, with long brown curls and big brown eyes. _She looks like a doe. A pretty doe._ But the king's new queen had nothing on _her_. There was no hint of mischief in those brown eyes, no odd half-smile graced her lips, and the rose always lowered her head demurely.

She stood next to the boy king now, shorter than him by an inch or two. What followed now was an endless repetition of words and chants. The vows and prayers and songs were nothing to him so he let his gaze wander over the crowd. From the back of the hall he saw the little bird but nothing of her short husband. Ever the dutiful lady, she looked up at the bridal couple with a shy smile. The old Queen looked as if she had drunk too much sour Dornish, while the old lion showed no emotion. He caught only a corner of _her_ smile from where he stood. On the bride's side, the loving mother smiled brightly, the father positively beamed. The brother though, the one that didn't wear white, wore only the hint of a smile, and worry in his eyes. _Ah, a bright one._ He was the only one amongst the roses, as far as Sandor could tell.

Finally, it was time for the cloak and the kiss. He wondered what she felt when she saw him kiss another. She was not foolish enough to be relieved, nor foolish enough to be sad. Perhaps it hurt her pride. But maybe, and he hoped it was this, she didn't feel anything about it at all. He couldn't tell from the look on her face. She turned her head to the couple and applauded as everyone else did and her smile was warm and approving. Even after what had happened, what that wretched little bastard had done to her, she had kept her smile, only sometimes, he saw her stiffen under the boy's touch, saw that her eyes sang a different song than her mouth. It was a relief. She was the greatest mummer of them all, but the falseness had not conquered her wholly. Sandor caught glimpses of what was underneath the marble and he liked it. Now, though, she was the king's gracious cousin again, one of her many roles.

She left the sept with the plump little prince on her arm, smiling graciously.

"I want to marry, too!" he heard the boy. "Uncle Tyrion is married and he is shorter than me!"

She smiled to that.

"You shall marry when you are old enough, Tommen." She promised. _Aye, maybe you._ "A married prince could not play with puppies anymore...and you want to keep your puppies, don't you?"

The prince nodded meekly.

"You are older than Joff, Allie. Why don't you marry?" They had reached the door now and she met his gaze as they walked through it.

"Because I want to play with puppies, too." Her words wavered over to him and he was thankful for his helmet then because it hid the grin on his face.

"Lady Margaery said I could have kittens, too. They have kittens in the Reach." Sandor heard the boy's high voice but not her reply. _Puppies._

 **Aliena**

She was thankful to change out of her demure gown. It did nothing for her, she found, and it was uncomfortable besides. Her gown for the feast though...She had it commissioned to go with her new piece of jewellry: A ring with a rose made from silver, the petals set with tiny garnets. _A red rose._

Kenna laid out the dress after her bath..

"A pretty dress, my lady, and so fitting. The Tyrells will like it." Aliena cared not so much for the Tyrells but it served as a pretext, she supposed.

"I thought so."

She put on the silken smallclothes, the shift, the corset- "Hold in your breath, my lady." For a moment, she thought she would never be able to breathe again and memories came, unbidden, and no matter how hard she tried to fight them, they stayed with a thorny grip.

"My lady?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes, I am fine." A smile. The worry had not quite gone from Kenna's eyes.

"The gown now, my lady." The silk was thin and they were both careful with it. Her handmaiden tucked and tugged until at last she was content.

"You'll be prettier than the bride, my lady."

A kind lie. But Aliena _did_ like what she saw.

The dress had no embellishment or embroidery, as not to overshadow the bride, but the cut was exciting.

The neckline bared her shoulders, a cut that was very popular these days, and the red silk wrapped around her shoulders like a lover's arms, overlapping in the front.

The sleeves were long and cut like an opening rose bud that bared her wrists.

The best part was the skirt though. It fully made up for the plainness of the top. Layers of thin, bright red silk cascaded down to the floor from her waist. The layers were cut like rose petals, one overlapping its neighbour. The silken petals rustled as she took a step towards the dresser where she kept her jewels.

"A beautiful dress, my lady."

"But nothing against the Queens' gowns."

Cersei would wear crimson velvet with details of gilded plate and a tiara of gold and rubies, as big as chicken eggs. Margaery would wear pale green organza with an emerald necklace and a slender circlet of gold, as befits her status as the new Queen.

"No, that would not be appropriate." Kenna shook her head. "Which jewellry do you wish to wear?"

"The new headpiece and ring."

Kenna nodded and brushed Aliena's dark curls with a brush of boar bristles.

She stood still while her handmaiden fastened the complicated headpiece on her parting and behind her ear.

"Extravagant", the handmaiden commented once she was done. It was. The headpiece covered the right side of her head like a cage, ornate strands of silver extended from the nape of her neck up over her ear and side parting to her forehead where they ended in tiny scrolls. Where two strands met, a tiny rose of silver and garnet joined them. It was more than a hairnet but less than a crown and Aliena was quite pleased with what it hinted at. _She might be Queen. But neither Tyrells nor Lannisters shall forget that I am of Baratheon blood...and Robert's only heir._

She slid the ring on her finger.

"New, my lady?"

She smiled. "Yes."

The feast was held in the Great Hall. In front of the huge, iron bound doors, courtiers stood and paraded their finery, chatted and gossiped, remarked how fair the bride was and how handsome the King, how it would be a century of peace and splendour... once Stannis was defeated.

"A splendid gown, my dear." Lady Tanda was always one for inappropriate familiarity.

"I thank you kindly. Your matching gowns are such a nice notion!" Today, the Stokeworth women wore blush pink, a colour that did not go well at all with their pale, sallow pallor. Lollys' eyes were clouded but Falyse and Tanda had lost nothing of their curiosity. Aliena was eager to get away from them.

She moved on towards the next:The Dornish. They stayed to themselves, as always, in the centre their Prince. Oberyn Nymeros Martell was a handsome man with a clear-cut, expressive face. He reminded Aliena of a hawk but for his eyes. _A viper's eyes._ His smile was as warm as the Dornish sun but there was something sly about it.

"My lady. I have only seen you briefly but I hope that will change."

"Oh, certainly, my prince. We are all looking forward to your work as member of the small council."

She turned to the woman at his side. His paramour.

"I think we have not met." she said, pleasantly.

"No." The bastard woman shook her head. She was not a conventional beauty but there was something about her that made her face twice as memorable as Cersei's. Perhaps it was the sharp, long nose, or the wide, sensual lips. She had not chosen the fashion of the capital but wore burnt orange sandsilk and brown leather, although the weather was cooler now. _A self-confident woman, and not one to bent the knee._

"Ellaria. Ellaria Sand." No noble lady would have ever spoken her name with so much pride.

"I know. I heard a lot about you."

The woman smiled.

"Do not be disappointed, my lady. Only half of it is true."

Aliena laughed. _Still enough to make many a noble lady speechless in horror._

"We are sorry for your loss, my lady. Your uncle's death was untimely." Oberyn Martell had a snake's tongue, she noticed.

"It was." she agreed. Then, more quietly, she added, casually: "A terrible hunting accident, the first in his entire life. It was the wine, he always had too much, the Queen said, although she tried to convince him to stop."

"I would think he was relieved that the boar did for him, then, when he was no longer allowed to get drunk in peace." The prince's tone was light but his eyes, which were so black that she could not tell pupil from iris, spoke a different language. It had been Robert who had succeeded Aerys but it had been a Lannister who had killed Oberyn's sister.

Ellaria slapped him lightly on the arm and gave him a reproachful look.

"That was tactless. You must forgive our prince, my lady, he sometimes forgets himself." _Our prince?_ _He is no prince of mine, good lady._

"Apologies." The Dornishman said, succinctly but he still eyed her with interest. As did his paramour. Aliena noticed where her eyes went and felt the urge to cover herself up.

"A pretty dress." Ellaria said, her voice rich with the unmistakable melody of the Dornish. Of all the Seven Kingdoms, Dorne had the thickest accent by far, for the Rhoynish had come last and they had joined the realm late. "In Dorne, we prefer simpler garb. More practical."

For a moment, Aliena thought she meant more practical to walk and ride in but the Dornish woman's sultry eyes and her prince's suggestive smile hinted at something else. They were mocking her. She felt heat rising to her cheeks.

"Yes." Her voice was sweet. "We have different customs here. More-"

"-rigid." The prince finished her sentence. "Perhaps you would like to form an opinion on Dorne yourself, my lady? Winter is near but Dorne is still warm."

 _I should not refuse. It may be that I will be thankful for Dornish support._

"I have never been to Dorne." she admitted. "But I cannot leave now. The King and Queen are very...fond of me." They would read this plain enough. The Dornish viper was no friend of Cersei.

"We heard how fond the king is of you." Oberyn Martell smiled lazily and anger rose in her stomach. "I am now a member of the Small Council. The old queen will not refuse me or my brother, I think. Lady Cersei has been very ...obliging." _The old Queen. Lady Cersei._

No, Aliena thought so, too. Maybe this was a solution, and a very elegant one. A trip to Dorne, a visit in Highgarden, and then she would come back to court with powerful allies in her back. _I would have to leave_ him _behind though._

"I am honoured by your invitation, my prince." Aliena gave him a politely detached smile. "And I accept it gladly." Even after she turned around, she still felt the Dornish eyes on her, black and cunning.

"A pretty ring." It was no more that a rasping murmur but it sufficed to sent a jolt of anticipation down her spine. She looked up to find herself face to face with him. A grin stole across her features by instinct before she could muster a detached impersonal smile.

Aliena looked down at her hand in feigned indifference.  
"Yes, I am quite fond of it, too."

He was still dressed in the white plate and wool of the Kingsguard, although others were on duty for the feast, but he no longer wore his helmet. She saw the hint of a smile lurking in the burnt corner of his mouth.

"Thank you."

Now, he really smiled, if only for the blink of an eye.

"You should go in, swan." he said, quietly. "These here only want to put you in a different cage." _He overheard my conversation with the Dornish._ Again, Aliena wondered what he heard. Guards were a part of furniture almost, not invisible but unnoticed. They were standing in front of doors day and night. _Varys should take some armoured birds into his service._

"Today, I am a rose. And no one dares to grasp my thorns." she replied playfully.

"I know some who are brave enough to try." His face was unmoving, as if this was a conversation about duty. But he was enticed, his eyes gave it away.

"They shall come then." She knew that she was playing with fire, in more ways than one, but she was like a man drinking shade of the evening, she could not stop.

His gaze wandered over her, his eyes were full of hunger. Then he gave a hoarse laugh.

"What is so funny?" Osmund Kettleback stood at Aliena's elbow. "I love to have a good laugh."

 _As if we didn't know._ The Kettlebacks were known for getting on with guards and courtiers alike….but best with the serving wenches. True, they were not hard to look upon, despite their long noses, but Aliena had the feeling that they would sell man, woman or child for a copper and a cup of wine.

"The girl asked why I was not at the king's side in the sept." Sandor grimaced as he lied. "Why it was you that stood at the altar."

Osmund Kettleback laughed now, too.

"No offence, brother, but most of us see the reason plainly enough. Mylady, compare our faces, if you will-" he sounded smug. _I know which one I like better._

"That lot can't abide to look at scars, not under the faces of your Gods." Sandor interrupted Kettleback. Then he nodded at him. "I'll get some wine." He did not even spare her another look.

"He _is_ a foul-tempered fellow, but do not take it personally, sweet lady, I am certain you did not give offense." He smiled at her in a way that he thought winning and irresistible.

"The other day, I invited him to join me and my brothers… for a few drinks." _For a few drinks on the silk street._ "He refused and when I asked again, joked that it was his duty as my brother, he almost sliced me in two…" The knight shuddered. "-but I had my sword out in no time and he did not stand a chance. I am a knight, after all." he added quickly, in a proud voice.

It took a lot of self restraint not to burst out into laughter. Osmund Kettleback was a passable sellsword and he looked handsome in the white plate of the Kingsguard but Aliena did not believe that he was a knight - they only had his word on that and she found cobweb of more substance than his tale. What kind of man would knight a sellsword _before_ a battle? No, that was unlikely. And as for not standing a chance...she would pay good coin to see _that_ fight, although it would not last long.

"And such a true knight you are, good Ser." She put a hand on his wrist. "I heard how well you defend maidens and women. Just like in the songs."

She smiled at him sweetly and left him standing there with a puzzled expression on his dark face.

The Great Hall was splendidly decorated, garlands of red and green silk mingled with streamers of cloth-of-gold and white organza, the sconces were polished to a sheen, tapestries of roses and lions and even a few with golden stags covered the whitewashed walls, thick rugs of crimson the stone-tiled floor. There were three tables, arranged in a huge U. The middle table was raised above the others. A hundred fine wood and velvet chairs were assembled around each table, and two tall thrones of gilded wood were reserved for the king and his bride, with a few smaller gilded chairs for their immediate family, the parents and grandparents.

Aliena found herself sitting not far from the royal couple, seated between Cersei and Olenna Tyrell. The old Queen wanted someone between her and the sharp tongued Queen of Thorns. On Cersei's other side sat Mace Tyrell, next to him the king. On Margaery's side sat old Lord Tywin, bald but still formidable. Next to him Lady Alerie, elegant and beautiful, who chatted to Ser Kevan. Tyrion and his lady wife sat at the end of the table, next to Ser Garlan and his wife, a sweet dainty lady. The king and his bride entered after all other guests, riding on white palfreys in gilded saddles. Joffrey whirled his bride around in his arms. Yes, he was playing the gracious today, and he did well. But only few courtiers were fool enough to believe this display of valour, grace and affection. Most had seen him with Sansa, not two years past. The girl was beautiful in a gown of silver satin and vair, her autumn hair held in place by a fine hairnet set with amethysts. Aliena would not have chosen purple to go with copper but the rest of her attire was very tasteful. Tyrion had done his best but no doublet could make him appear less dwarfish.

"You look very beautiful, Sansa. What a pretty hairnet", Aliena had complimented her and Sansa had replied sweetly but with a wooden tongue. She seemed preoccupied...or perhaps it was grief. Her brothers and mother had died not a fortnight ago and she was the last surviving Stark - only that she was no Stark anymore. She had never looked much like it, anyway. _Neither does Tyrion look much like a Lannister. Or me like a Baratheon._ It was not in the looks, she decided, for her own sake. Sansa was a Stark, there was wolf blood in her, just like there was gold in Tyrion's veins and storm in her. _Storm and dragon blood._ At least a drop. There was no drop of dragon blood in the king though, and no storm either. Only gold, too much of it. _His blood will flow soon._

The feast began with a thick soup and Aliena had a few spoons. She did not know _when_ it would happen. It could be after the second course... and she did really not want to miss out on the food. Singers entertained them, or at least they tried.

"After this wedding I am sure I could make a living as a singer." said Olenna to her left. "I know The Rains of Castamere by heart now."

"I am sure you would increase the Tyrell wealth threefold, my lady." Aliena smiled. "Perhaps your guards could dance and ride on stick horses."

The Queen of Thorns smiled. "A splendid idea, dearest. I do really wonder why the Lannister are so proud of their gold when it is so easy to make."

Cersei darted a glance at Aliena that spoke volumes of her annoyance. Aliena took a fork of her pine nut salad to give her mouth something to do.

She chatted to Cersei when the king spoke up, called for his royal jousters with a wine-heavy tongue.

Two dwarves rode in, one on a dog, the other on a pig. _Well, whose clever plan was this?_ Tyrion did not have the self-restraint to stay calm, nor the wisdom to keep his mouth shut. Men rarely knew when to be silent, when to sit down and show a brave face.

The charade was amusing, though Aliena did not find it as funny as everyone else did, judging by their laughter. She spotted Sandor at the lower end of the left table, but he laughed with a cup of wine in his hand, Balon and Trant at his side, both with red heads and tired eyes. _The wine flows too freely today._ She herself had not drunk more than a cup, too great was the danger a wine-heavy tongue brought, her reactions would be slowed down, her mind clouded. She could not afford that today. The king was well beyond drunk. She had seen him like this before, a fortnight ago when had claimed his rights. But Margaery's would never feel his wine-stinking breath on her face, nor his hot sweaty hands on her skin. Her grandmother would protect the girl.

Olenna noticed the direction of her gaze.

"I don't understand it either. In my days, the knights of the Kingsguard protected the king, they surely didn't feast with him. In my days, they were _knights_ , after all." she said, sourly.

"Lord Tywin thought it wise not to have too many guards. Those who were in the city during the battle of the blackwater are still nervous. And they might eat and drink but they are on guard." She looked again at their red faces and tired eyes and doubted her own words, just like Olenna.

"Well, I do not think it wise, with wedding customs these days...killing a man at his own wedding, truly deplorable."

Aliena gave her her sweetest smile.

"Indeed. The Gods punish those that harm a man on his wedding day."

"The Gods? Oh, sweetling, you're not fool enough to think that they do the dirty work for us poor humans? No, we have to see to the punishment ourselves."

 _Tough times lie ahead of us then. And toughest for the Lannisters._

Cersei had not paid attention, she watched the jousters.

One had apparently lost his head, until Lord Gyles pulled a red dripping watermelon out of the helmet. The whole court laughed out loud in amusement but Aliena smelled trouble. This had Littlefinger's handwriting all over it….put two enemies in a pot, mix well, add a spark and see the whole thing go up in flames from a safe distance. Then take the ashes to build yourself a castle. It had worked with the wolves and the lions...and now it was the king against the imp. No doubt who would win. And considering Joffrey's impending death, one did not need to be a genius to understand who was to be the scapegoat here. _A small man without friends or sword, despised by most._ Yes, it was a simple plan, but brilliant. Varys had not told her about this part. The eunuch never told her everything. _Does he plan to save him?_ Aliena was not sure. He was fond of the imp and aware of his qualities...but he was only a piece in Varys' scheme, just like her, but without the noble blood and the cheering smallfolk and infatuated noblemen. _Is he pawn, a horse, or a dragon?_ She was not even sure what she was herself.

Joffrey stood up- and the trouble unfolded. Olenna got up, too, leaning on her cane, and then she walked over to the king and her granddaughter with surprising speed. _She does it now._ But how? It was the wine, for sure….but how did she put the poison in ? How had she been able to bring poison? There were some of which a drop only was deadly but how would she empty a vial into the wine without being seen? Aliena saw how she touched the chalice, made a remark about the white wolf, but there was no bottle in her hand.

The imp was on his knees, offering his king the cup. Joffrey drank- and Aliena knew it would be over soon. He went with Margaery to cut the pie.

Then he staggered back to his uncle. _His last act._ It was fitting that his last act would be one of cruelty. Aliena prepared herself for the emotions she would have to display: Shock, pain, sadness, anger.

"The pie is good." _kof._ "Dry though. Needs washing down." _kof, kof._

 _He will choke._ Joffrey took another swallow of poisoned wine. _Kof, kof._

Margaery looked at him with concern. "Your Grace?"

 _Kof._ "Uncle, I want to see you-" _kof, kof._ "-ride that pig." _kof, kof._

From her seat, Aliena had a splendid view. The whole hall suddenly realised that their king was about to choke. Panic spread like wildfire. A few stayed calm. She saw Sansa leave the hall in a swirl of silver satin. _Clever girl._ Littlefinger had offered to marry the girl himself, now he had left for the Eyrie - or so he would have them believe. He would bring Sansa to her aunt. There was no safer place for her, sadly. Varys had not intervened and now she would be on her way.

Cersei rushed to Joffrey's side and it was time for Aliena to do the same.

Her skirts rustled as she hurried over to the king who lay in his mother's arms now. _It is a pity. They should have waited till after the dance._ The gown was wasted.

"Your Grace." she kneeled at Joffrey's side, careful to avoid the wine. Tears ran over her cheeks, tears she had not summoned. It had been enough to remember…

"Joffrey, Joff." her voice had turned into a shriek. "No, no. Someone help him. He is dying." And he was. His face had turned purple now, the same dark purple as Sansa's amethysts. Aliena was strangely calm, the sound of waves drowned out the sounds around her, the shrieks and shouts, the wails and curses. It took her a while to norice that she heard her own blood rushing. _Aliena Seaeye. Stormdaughter._ Indeed, the storm raged around her but in the storm's eye, it was always calm, or so she'd heard.

The tears still came. Joffrey took his last, ragged breath and Cersei shrieked. And the dam had broken. It was over, the years of bruises and forced smiles, her dance on a tightrope. No one would ever do to her what he had done. She would be wiser next time. She knew that her face was red with tears, her hair in disarray. _Let them see. Let them see my_ love _for him._ She needed Cersei and she needed Tywin. But the boy was gone.

"No!" Her final shriek sounded good, so full of pain and despair. She gave up control entirely, felt the blood hot in her veins. She had to suppress the urge to laugh though and then her tears dried.

"The boy is gone." Someone helped Cersei up and she felt arms around her waist as well, arms that pulled her up not ungently.

"Come, girl." His voice was a soft rasp now.

She turned around. The knights of the Kingsguard were all around them.

"You were supposed to _save_ him." she wailed. "You let him die."

She heard the crowd muttering: "The poor girl", and "She's half mad."

Margaery cried softly. "Shht, sweetling, it is not your fault. He choked, the king choked on his pie. It has naught to do with you." _More than you know._

Cersei looked at them sharply, pain in her eyes and wine on her gown. Then she turned around.

"Do your duty, Kingsguard. For once." Her voice was pure vinegar.

Loras Tyrell stepped forward. "Your Grace?" he said, insecure.

"My son was poisoned. He did not choke. Poison. He pointed at my brother, he knew his murderers. The imp and his little wife. Arrest them, I say. Now."

And Tyrion, who stood there like a forlorn little boy, found himself surrounded by swords. _A brave man who threatens a dwarf ten to one._ She felt Sandor's fingers tighten around her arm.

"The little bird has flown away." he murmured. _Is he sad? Disappointed? Would he have left with her?_ Aliena dared not tell him the truth. He might leave...and she could not bear that.

As the imp was brought to his cell, Tywin nodded at Sandor.

"Bring the girl to her room. Pycelle, a potion to make her sleep. Then, I want you in my solar. The small council will gather in my solar." Tywin Lannister did not have to raise his voice. He could whisper and the whole hall would go so silent that even the men guarding the door would hear.

"My sweet Margaery." The queen was still sobbing while her mother murmured softly.

Tywin looked at the young queen with his pale, emotionless eyes. "A sleeping draught is in order here, too, I suppose."

The guests that had remained left the hall in panic but no one came close to them, Sandor led her through the doors, one arm around her shoulders, over the yard, down the serpentine stairs.

She still sobbed a little from time to time but the real tears would not come anymore. Once in her chambers, she stopped her charade and sat down on her bed.

"Very convincing." his voice was still and cold as a grave. Was he angry?

"You knew it would happen." It was no question.

"I thought it might." Aliena nodded, cautious now.

"You could have told me." Was that why he was angry?

"Why? I knew no more than that it might happen. And what would it have changed?"

The words made him scowl. "Nothing, girl." It was not a good sign that he called her 'girl'. She got up.

"I could not tell you. I was told by someone...aye. But I knew not when and how and where. If I had told you, you would have anticipated it. You might have given it away, and lost your head for it. And it was not my secret to share."

She reached up to cup his cheek when a knock on the door disturbed them.

"Pycelle." she said.

"No worries, your eyes are still red."

She dabbed some water on her cheeks before she opened.

"Oh-oh Great Maester. Why could you not save him? He died, he's dead…"

Pycelle patted her hand softly.

"Poor dear." he said. "Poor girl indeed." He looked over to Sandor with a hint of unease. "The Lord Hand commands you to stay here for this night. Tomorrow, other arrangements will be made."

Sandor's mouth grew tight.

"I have stood guard here not a fortnight ago. Where are my brave brothers?"

"Good Ser, do you want to refuse your orders?" Pycelle asked, outraged.

"Spare me your 'sers', old man. And get it over with." His scowl was very convining...

The maester put a small bottle on her nightstand.

"Drink it up, sweetling. And you will dream of your king tonight." Aliena sobbed heartbreakingly. The maester hurried towards the door.

"The Lord Hand has need of me. Forgive me, my lady. Sleep well."

Only when the solar door was firmly shut did they retreat into the bedchamber.

She poured the sleeping potion down her privy.

"So it's over now." Sandor stood by the door in white wool and enamelled breastplate, his eyes wary.

"Yes….and no." she replied and he understood. Joffrey was gone...but for them nothing had changed. Whatever it was between them, it would have to stay hidden and concealed. A tingly excitement took hold of her.

"But I fear I will be mourning my cousin deeply. I will stay in my bedroom for at least a week." She smiled now. And he smiled back.

"And the girl needs a guard." His voice was filled with the excitement she felt.

Again, she reached up, pulled his head down to her, planted a soft kiss on his lips. He did not push for more. Slowly, her lips wandered to his ear.

"Try to get the night watch." she whispered.


	32. Chapter 32

**These two chapters should just show where she's heading for now that Joffrey is (finally) dead. And who her new allies are.**

 **I hope you enjoy it!**

 **ShinyRedPenny:** I thank you so much for your support and your detailed reviews! As I said before, I feel quite honoured^^

 **Nyany4:** I'm so glad that you think so! I am quite happy that all the cool characters are in KL now and can interact with Aliena, I have been waiting forever for this part. I thank you a lot for all your sweet, encouraging reviews!

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou (typing your name always makes me smile), TheOneKrafter, Guest:**

I whole-heartedly agree, it's a joy to know he's gone! It wouldn't be A Song of Ice and Fire without other baddies, though. I thank you a lot for reviewing!

As I said, your support means a lot to me and it encourages and motivates me a lot!

(I am also sorry for me abnormally long Author's Notes, I just feel it would be so impolite not to thank you for the support!

* * *

 **King's Landing, 300 AC**

 **Aliena**

Her plan to spend all week in her chambers failed. On the second day, Tywin Lannister summoned her to his solar. And there was no way the lion of the Rock would accept grief and mourning for his grandson as an excuse. Malicious gossip had it that he had been at his desk even on the morning after his wife's death, although no one doubted his devotion for the lovely Joanna. So Aliena dressed in her fine black mourning silks, the one she had never worn for Robert, and made her way to the tower of the Hand.

Only after knocking did she enter his solar.

"Mylord?" she had not been able to summon her tears again but perhaps her grief was just beyond tears by now. At least that was what the servants said. That, and that she had lost her mind. Mayhaps it was good that she was seen out and about to refute those rumours.

Lord Tywin took no note of her as he finished his letter and pressed the rampant lion seal in the hot crimson wax. Only then did he look up.

"Mylady." He greeted her, as if she had not waited for ages right in front of him.

"I bid you a good morning." Her voice was steady and even, with only a hint of pain. "You have summoned me, my lord?"

She knew better than to complain about the wait. It needed a different sort of temper to please Lord Tywin. Obedient, quick, subtle, loyal. She could be all that, for an hour or two.

"I trust you are feeling better now, my lady. The king's death was tragic and we all mourn for him. We know now that it was indeed murder, as my daughter said."

Aliena gasped very convincingly.

"Who?" Tears filled her eyes but she could not make them fall. "Who would-"

"Cersei says it was Tyrion. And he did pour the wine and we all witnessed that... _incident_."

 _You mean when your grandson told your son to ride a pig? Yes, no one will forget that any time soon._

"A just trial will decide whether Tyrion is guilty." _Good luck then, Lord Tyrion._ Just trials were as rare as virgin whores. Especially in the capital.

"Joffrey deserves justice", she sobbed.

Tywin Lannister looked at her with his pale green eyes. Aliena could have counted the golden flecks and when she noticed that he wanted to unnerve her, she did. There were twelve in his left eye but only nine in his right, although some of them were so small that they were hard to see. Finally, she lowered her eyes demurely, defeated. Tywin Lannister was no man who liked to lose, least of all to a woman, but he did like strength. As all strong men, he was both drawn towards it and felt threatened by it.

Just that he would never perceive a woman as a threat. _Their folly is my gain._ Varys was one of the few who did not make a difference between a woman and a man and for that, Aliena almost liked him. _The world should be full of eunuchs._ She almost chuckled.

 _Does_ he _think little of women?_ Surely. Soldiers normally did. Or maybe it depended on the woman.

"My grandson will have justice." Tywin declared. But then he waved that topic aside. He still did not offer her a seat but Aliena knew that he was about to let her know the reason why he had summoned her.

"Cersei told me that you wish to stay unmarried. Talk freely. Do you? You will turn ten and eight this year. You should have been married two years ago. I offered Jaime, my own son, did you know? Robert refused."

"Ser Jaime is a knight of the Kingsguard, my lord." She rubbed salt in the wound. Indeed, the old lion's face grew tight.

"Ser Barristan was released from his vows as well." he said, grimly. "Well, in any case: Is it your wish?" _As if I had a choice if you wanted to marry me off._

"It is my wish to please, my lord. But if I had the choice, I would like to stay here. Unmarried."

The lion's eyes scrutinised her.

"Why?"

He would not accept the tale of her great love. She needed more.

"I loved Joffrey. With all my heart." Tywin did not reply. He knew she was not done. "And I like being at court. On my own."

Every man would understand her desire for independence, yet think it unnatural in a woman. Lord Tywin scowled.

"A woman is not supposed to be on her own. You will wed, you will bear children, you will keep your husband's household. Once I have found a suitable match for you."

 _You mean once you secured the best candidate for Cersei._ Perhaps he intended to give her to the Tyrell cripple. They had refused Cersei but Aliena was young, unused as far as they knew, heir to Storm's End...and maybe more. _I will have to keep my eyes and ears open and plan ahead._ She would not wear a cloak of other colours than her own, that much was certain. _Varys would not permit it._ But she could never be sure of his support. A spider was not to be trusted.

"But for now, you may stay at court, even when Cersei leaves. You will be Queen Margaery's lady in waiting."

 _Wise of you, my lord._ If she were him, if she were him and knew about Tommen's parentage...she would keep herself close and unmarried, too. Until Stannis was defeated. Then she would give her hand to a loyal supporter, someone with a family great enough not to bring shame upon her but not great enough to pose a threat. _A Tyrell._ They were content enough to have a queen in their family, they would not cast sweet Margaery aside to crown a cripple. _Or he might give me to a Royce._ They had not come to the crown's aid. Yet. Perhaps they would, for a promise… Now that the Vale had no heir to speak of, the Royce family might well become the rulers of the Vale, as in olden days. _If Tywin needed them, he could have them._

"I thank you, my lord Hand. I have no greater wish." she bowed. Lord Tywin was not done, though.

"You will not hide in your room again. You mourn for our king, as we all do. But you will mourn for him in the sept, like everyone else. You will attend the reception after the Last Prayers have been said. And you will be present during the trial. If you saw something, you will give evidence. I will not have you hiding like a child. You are a woman grown, my lady, and you will be treated as such." _Will I? Will I? Will I? Will I?_ Aliena found all the orders unnerving and something inside her wanted to rebel. But instead, she played the compliant. _Daena the Defiant spent her prime in the Maidenvault._ She did not care to do the same.

"Yes, my lord. It was very stubborn of me." Again, she bowed slightly.

She did not say that she would do as she was told. Tywin expected her to. _Joffrey was easier most of the time...but he was worse, so much worse as well._ Tywin was the most trying task yet. But she would crack even the toughest nut.

The Lord of Casterly Rock nodded.

"There will be a guard in your chamber from now on. Cersei thinks it safest until Tyrion...well, until we found the king's murderer."

 _Tyrion will die. Or go to the Wall._ He was not guilty, but what did innocence matter in this city? _Ask Sansa. She was innocent, and it bought her bruises beyond count._

"Of course, my lord."

"I thought Ser Balon might serve and Cersei suggested Sandor Clegane." _I must have been good that the Gods reward me so._

"Shouldn't the Hound protect Tommen? The king, I mean."

Tywin grimaced.

"Apparently, the king is scared of him." _That at least has worked._ "But it does not matter. Ser Gregor will come to the capital, and he will guard the king...until the trial is over. Afterwards, there is no need for a kingsguard in your room."

 _Oh, yes, Tommen will be far less scared of the Mountain that Rides._ Sandor would love living under one roof with his brother.

"I will gladly accept whichever guards you have chosen, my lord. Of course, this is only until the trial?"

Tywin nodded. "It is the Queen's wish...and as long as Tyrion has not be proven guilty, the true murderer could still be free. I do not wish to take chances. No more trips to Flea Bottom without guard for you, my lady, no more unattended walks at night."

He dipped his quill into the inkpot. She was dismissed.

 **~o~**

Back in her chambers, she found a fat serving maid scattering rushes on the stone floor of her bedroom.

"My lady." The woman bowed when Aliena entered and only when she heard the voice did she recognise him.

"Varys. I have almost come to think that you should have chosen the stage instead of court. You are the perfect mummer."

The eunuch straightened his back.

"I am a juggler, my lady, that most of all. Tell me, for how long can I still keep everything in the air?"

"You mean: How will I help you to."

Varys had soft brown eyes with a reddish hue, warm eyes, trustworthy eyes. Right now, these eyes scrutinised her.

"No. I mean what I say. What do you think, my lady? How long until this realm descends into utter chaos?"

"It is chaos we want." Aliena said. "Only from chaos can rise something new."

"You sound almost like our good Lord Baelish." He mocked her.

"Careful, my friend, I have a knife right here." Aliena warned him. Littlefinger was neither a friend of the realm, nor a friend of hers. And she did not like it at all that he had removed himself from Varys' reach.

The eunuch laughed lightly at her threat.

"Sweet lady, you would be disappointed." He still chuckled. "After Lord Baelish's most inconvenient little ploy, the balls are flying more quickly than ever. How shall I keep them all in the air?"

"It will be one ball fewer. They will blame it on Tyrion."

"So we should let Lord Tyrion die who served us so well?" _He did not serve me._ Aliena had not forgotten that he had wanted to sell ehr to the Braavosi.

"Have you not decided already that you will save him?" She grinned.

"Me? The Gods might judge him innocent and save him...but I do not have this power, sweet lady. Do you not want justice for your beloved Joff? How rude of me, I have not offered you my condolences. Your tears were heartbreaking, truly. May I say that black does become you extraordinarily well?"

"It is the greatest compliment coming from such a well-dressed lord." Aliena smiled but she was tense. He had not just come for this.

"Now the realm is firmly in good Lord Tywin's hand. He will defeat Stannis and restore the realm to peace and quiet." He did not sound pleased. "And yet, sometimes, we have to take a sip of Littlefinger's bitter draught. A spoonful of chaos only."

Aliena guessed that Lord Tywin would not enjoy his chambers high up in the Hand's tower for very long.

"Why not kill two birds with one stone?" she suggested. _Free Tyrion and kill Tywin._ The time was ripe for the imp.

"I would rather kill one bird and let the other fly." Varys smiled.

"Our good Queen will be furious. But the ruling of this realm will fall to her once again. She was a formidable Queen Regent, do you not agree, my lady? What an outcome. Five kings fighting each other, and the greatest war of the Seven Kingdoms in recent times. I am fully confident that she will continue this way. But perhaps you could support her? Share her heavy burden? A mother must be full of fear that the pretty young Queen will take her beloved last son from her. It would be terrible if the two queens were rivals for the young king, such a tender hearted boy."

Aliena smiled.

"Indeed. I will do my utmost to reconcile our queens...all three of them."

Varys took her hand and patted it. His fingers were soft and powdered and felt like floppy fish.

"Our good Lady Olenna. Where would we be without her! Truly, she was quite moved by your tears as well, my lady. And approves of your close friendship with sweet Cersei.'It is good of her to give the mourning mother comfort in these troubled days', that is what she said."

"I am happy to hear that, I shall thank her for her kind words."

"I heard Highgarden is rather beautiful in autumn. And Lord Willas makes up for his crippled leg with his wit and kindness." _I should gamble. The cripple for me, of course._

"I shall beware of her thorns as well, do not worry, my lord."

Varys smiled appreciatively.

"I shall leave you to your three crowns, my lady. Do not grow too fond of our Lord Hand. The Gods can be cruel sometimes."

Resuming his role, he shuffled out of the room and left only sweet-smelling rushes behind.

It would not take much to pit the Tyrells against the Lannisters. It was Tywin who had the sense to see their importance. Cersei would love to see them all impaled on their own thorns. No, it would not take much to spread the wildfire once Tywin was dead, and that scared Aliena. _What will I do with the ashes?_ 'A spoonful of chaos', Varys had said, but with Cersei there was wildfire or rain, but no candle flame.

 _He knows that well enough._

Varys wanted chaos in the capital and relative peace in the realm but one thing was so closely linked to the other that she could not set one afire while keeping the other out of danger. _Her influence will wilt like the leaves these autumn days._ That would limit her power, stop the fire from spreading. _And then… what then?_

There was a knock on the door and Aliena hurried over into her solar.

"My lady, the queen has need of you." _Doesn't she always?_

Aliena smoothed down the skirt of her simple mourning dress and tucked some loose strands of hair back under the hairnet.

Then she hurried to the old Queen's chambers.

"There you are." Cersei had a cold lunch. "I sent for you almost an hour ago."

"The Lord Hand has summoned me, Your Grace, I ask your forgiveness."

Cersei shot her a measuring glance.

"My father? What did he want?" _Yes, what did he want?_ _He wanted to make sure that I am not sold to the Tyrells yet. Or to someone else. The Dornish._

"He informed me about the guards. Until your brother is - I mean until they have found Joff's murderer."

"No, say it how it is. The imp has to die. He is no brother of mine, has never been. He will die. He is guilty, everyone has seen him with the goblet." _And that, sweet Cersei, is the problem._ Who would think him foolish enough to commit this crime in front of a thousand guests?

"I have questioned the guests and servants and I have more than enough proof. Father does not like it but it is an elegant solution to get rid of him once and for all." Cersei paced up and down restlessly in her velvet mourning gown.

"Your Grace, perhaps it is time to go to the sept? We should pray, light seven candles."

Cersei nodded.

"Yes. We will take the litter. I can't bear to see those insolent faces. Not one of them grieves for the king, can you believe it? He fought off Stannis but those ungrateful creatures cannot even say a prayer for their rightful king." _Aye, but he also fought off people begging for bread and clean water with arrows. And perhaps they also remember that Joff was safe behind the walls of the Red Keep when the fighting was thickest while there own homes caught fire and they lost husbands, brothers and sons in the fighting and others in the fire._ But Cersei never wasted a thought on the rabble.

The sept was filled with smoke from the incense that burned day and night and the smoke of the candles. Aliena's stomach turned. The smell was overwhelming and too rich. Joffrey lay in the middle of the seven pointed star that was picked out on the floor in golden tiles. He was not as pretty as he once had been but far kinder. There was a genuine smile on his face, an odd thing. He had never smiled like this, sweetly. His smiles had always been sly, filled with some hidden agenda or desire.

"He looks peaceful." she said dutifully.

"Peace? He cannot be at peace, not as long as his murderer is still alive." Cersei was full of rage. "But soon enough Tyrion will rot in the seven hells." _And join Joff, you mean._

"For that I pray." Cersei was not one for piety, she let Aliena light the candles while she stared at her dead son as if she could will him back to life.

Aliena said the prayers, too, one each to Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith and Maiden. And then, she said her prayer to the Stranger.

"Stranger, the candle of King Joffrey's life has gone out." All prayers started with this phrase. "I pray, bring him safely into the other world. Ease his troubles and his pain and lead him into the Father's golden hall where he shall laugh and love and feast until the end of days. I beg you to fulfil my prayers, Stranger, Seventh of the Seven."

"Do you think they hear you?" Cersei asked scornfully. "They spit on us, Aliena. All of don't care for your prayers and why would they? We are nothing more than ants under their feet. But I will give Joff justice. You can count on that."

Aliena lit the last candle. _Let him rot in seven hells. Give him what he deserves._

Then she walked back to the queen's side, ready to leave.

"Go." Cersei urged her. "I will stay. Take some guards and tell the rabble to pray for their dead king. And obey their new king."

 _They will do neither. Their old king was worse than Mad Aerys, their new king is a boy in the hands of Tywin Lannister._ But Aliena took the opportunity. She had not been in Flea Bottom for a while.

The bright autumn sun burned in her eyes and it took her a moment to get accustomed to light after the dim sept.

"My lady? Where is the queen?" Ser Balon looked valiant in his white armour. He and two of his brothers had accompanied them to the sept. Sandor and Loras Tyrell, the former because Cersei felt safer with him and the latter because Cersei felt that Tommen was safer without him.

"She is still praying. I will go to Flea Bottom, give alms to the people and ask them to pray for the king." _He will need every single prayer._

Balon shook his head. "My lady, it is madness. They might not have torn you apart during the riot but they will now if you give them an opportunity."

 _He is afraid._ Of course, Aliena had forgotten. He had fought his way through the mob that day and taken his white cloak from Ser Preston who had been less lucky…

Ser Loras looked at her with insolent brown eyes. "I agree with my sworn brother, my lady. You will have to wait till Mother's Day. You can give them your alms then."

Sandor snorted. "Who are you to tell the lady what to do, flower? You chicken-hearted fools, what do you have your swords for? I'll go, my lady, and hope they won't raise their pans and pokers against me."

Balon stayed quiet although his neck went red as a beet but Loras stepped forward.

"No one calls me _chicken-hearted._ " He had his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Guess I just did." Sandor towered over the boy and looked him up and down with an bleak face and angry grey eyes, his hand at his sword, too. "What now, _boy_?"

This was not good. Not good at all. Thankfully, Balon saw that, too.

"Brothers." he stepped between them. "This is unnecessary. We are knights of the Kingsguard, sworn to protect the king and his family. We will not raise our swords against a brother."

Loras scowled. "He's not even a knight."

By now, Aliena would not have minded so much if Sandor had shortened this cocky boy by a head. But they still stood on the steps of the Great Sept. Sandor spat out.

"No. I'm no bloody knight. But I cut through hundreds of them, and I tell you what, boy: They bleed like common men. And when their bellies are open and their guts spill out, they beg for mercy like common men, too."

He took his hand off his sword hilt and turned around to her. "Are you ready, girl?"

She hurried down the steps after him without looking back.

"That was ill-done." she said, once they were out of earshot.

He snorted. "You're welcome." he said, bitterly. "Those fine pansies are scared of a few dirty peasants with cobblestones."

"They are wiser than you." She smiled.

"If you want wisdom it's the bloody Crone you should go to, I've been told."

She laughed. "I am quite content with you, thank you." He did not react to that though.

"Swann, he wants you. And he'll be your guard some nights-" Was it jealousy thatmade him speak? She almost thought so.

"Balon will do me no harm." Aliena found it hard to keep up with his long steps.

"It's not _harm_ I'm talking about, girl." His tone was sour. _I know what you're talking about and I call that 'harm'._

"Stop calling me _girl_ , I told you." she said, instead.

He smiled now, for the first time today.

"Must have forgotten."

"I am not a girl." Now, he looked at her in a way that made her blush.

"Believe it or not, girl, I noticed."

Her mourning gown was plainly cut but it still showed her feminine figure. Black Myrish lace covered her up to the throat but in the bright sunlight, it did not hide much. She tried to pull the bodice a bit higher but he commented her effort with a rasping laugh so she let it be.

"What do you want here anyway? You'll come back with fleas and lice and a pouch of silver lighter." he asked and she was thankful for the change of topic.

"They'll have fewer lice and fleas, then. And a pouch of silver more."

"And remember Lady Swann well, won't they?" He laughed but it was joyless. "You're clever, I grant you that. They protected you well last time. But they won't buy you-"

"I don't do it for that. By now, I feel obliged to, yes. But I never did it for my own gain." A hint of anger darkener her mood. I _s that what he thinks of me?_

"Many of them lost their houses and goods, many women their husbands, too. They never had enough but now, they have nothing. No one helps them." she explained but he shook his head.

"Those who cannot care for themselves make way for those who can. That's the way of it girl."

"Then how come that you saved me? You could have let me die, a dozen times or more. I would have died and made way for someone else. I can't protect myself. Neither could Sansa. You protected her, too." It stung, the thought. He had looked for the Stark girl first, during the riot. Not for her.

"I'll stop then." he said, his tone cold.

"Fine. You just go back to your brothers. I can see the family likeness now."

Sandor shoved her into some dirty alley. It stank of piss and shit and rotten fish.

"You call me a coward?" His face was tight with rage.

"I call you a fraud." She said as the anger flowed through her veins like boiling blood.

"That is rich coming from you." He still held her by the shoulders.

"Are you done now? I would like to make my visit."

"You're such a bloody fool." he rasped, his voice angry. _Why, thank you._

But before she could think of a reply, he took her face between his big hands and pressed a kiss onto her lips, rough and fervent. She allowed herself to respond only for a tiny moment, then she had to push him away. She saw the hurt in his eyes although his face betrayed nothing.

"Not here." she pleaded, hoping against all odds that he might not be angry.  
But his sneering smile would have looked more natural on a statue of the Stranger.

"I forgot." he said, bitterly. "Only fine knights may kiss you where others can see it."

"You know-"

"Forget it, swan. Make your visit, but be quick about it." He tried shoved her out of alley but she held him back.

"You can go." she said, wishing he would. She did not like it, no more than he did, but she knew that not playing by the rules would get them kicked out of the game. And she _needed_ it, she _needed_ to be a piece, or she was nothing. Once again, she reflected on their differences, envying him this time. He did not have to comply, did not have to care for what others thought.

Right now, he laughed out loud but as so often, it was more bitterness and scorn than joy.

"Leave you here alone? Small chance of that, swan."

 _He is a truer knight than all of them together._ Balon would have let her go on her own, cursed her, begged her to stay, but left her alone all the same. Loras would not even have called after her, neither would have the others.

 _White cloaks once stood for something. Now, they are something up for sale: Who can buy it with compliments and promises, with dirty deeds unsung of, corruption, blackmail...murder?_ Sandor had been given his cloak for murder...and for loyalty. _A loyal Kingsguard is as rare as a loyal spider these days._ But he was. Loyal to her, as well.

Her heart was heavy still, she could not forget the expression on his face, nor the feeling of pushing him away. The alley was still deserted, these walls had no windows... _Aye, but cracks and holes beyond count._ Nevertheless, Aliena reached up.

Tenderly, she caressed his cheek.  
"Be not cross with me." she whispered. "It makes me sad." It was a simple truth but somehow, it changed something in him.

Rough, strong fingers took her hand off his cheek gently.

"I'm not. Now make your bloody visit, before night falls. I don't feel like fighting off drunkards who take you for some whore."

"Think of all the pennies you could make." She smiled.

"Pennies are for the dwarf. I'd have dragons for you."

She slapped his arm for that.

They reached Flea Bottom quickly but her gown paid. It was three inches deep in mud and other dirt. _I will not wear mourning forever anyway._

"My lady!" A tall, haggard woman exclaimed with surprise. _I haven't been here in a while._ "Come, Lady Swann is here again. Aliena is here." The woman shouted.

Within moment, the small courtyard was crowded. Children cried and wailed and tugged at her skirt, mothers stood with faces of stone, a few old toothless men sat on the ground in corners, their eyes cast down.

"I know, it has been a while. I was not allowed to come but I sent a boy with silver, did he come?"

"Twice, my lady, but he brought no silver." The tall woman said. Aliena gave her a hard look.

"He didn't? That is a pity." _A pity for him._

He would be dealt with. _I will have to ask Varys. He will find the boy for me, though surely, the silver will be gone._ It did not matter much, there was more. But she had been foolish enough to trust him, twice, and he had betrayed her. _He will wish he didn't, though. He will wish he didn't._

"I will find a more trustworthy one."

One of the toothless men gave a rattling laugh.

"There's no such boy, m'lady. Silver and honour dun keep company down 'ere."

Aliena shook her head. "Be that as it may. How is it? Have you had news? Your husband has not returned, Tara?" She addressed the tall woman.

"Neither have my brother...or the other men. It was a victory, they say. It doesn't feel like one round 'ere, m'lady."

The houses had no roofs, only burnt beams and blackened stones, if that much remained at all. The streets and alleys were soiled and stinking, the well had collapsed.

"I know." Aliena gave the woman a pouch of silver. "For the roofs. I know it is not enough for all, but for some. Winter will come soon enough. Take the orphans in, and those without a home."

"We'd need a keep, m'lady." _Why, take the red one. It's stones have taken their colour from the blood that washed over them. The blood of your family as well._

"I will send you silver, even if I cannot come, Tara." she promised.

The woman nodded.

"You're very kind, m'lady." she said. "Tammo and Nora have been cooking for you, m'lady, squirrel stew. Would you like some?" She looked at Sandor, indecisive. But then she seemed to take heart. "And you, too, m'lord?"

"I'm no lord, woman. You know who I am. And you don't want me in that hut of yours."

But he followed them all the same. Two of the old men limbed after them. Tara's father and father-in-law, for all Aliena knew..

"How is it going, Tara? How many houses could be saved from the fire?"

"Few and less." The thin woman shook her head. "Many don't even have walls anymore and it's getting colder. They're making for Weeping Town and Ashford and further South where it's still warm, m'lady."

The smallfolk couldn't care less for the endless wars between the lords, but it was them the wars hit hardest. _Perhaps Sandor is right and there are no gods. Why would they permit such crimes and suffering?_

They entered Tara's hut. It was one of the bigger ones, though only the size of Aliena's rarely used solar. A freckled boy stood next to a large kettle in which something brown boiled and blubbered lazily.

"M'lady!" It was a girl that darted across the room and hugged Aliena's legs with skinny arms.

"I knew you would come, although they all said you wouldn't." _They all believed I had forgotten them_. Aliena couldn't blame them, they had needed her the most right after the battle, yet, she had not been there.

"I am relieved you had faith in me." Aliena knelt down. "Have you done your reading?"

The girl nodded. "I have! I am better than Tammo now!"

The boy gave an angry hiss. "You're _not_!" he said to his sister. "I'm a 'prentice smith now, m'lady. And I can do the books so Old Jon pays me a copper more!"

The boy had always wanted to be a smith although his father had been half a beggar. But Tammo had learnt letters and numbers and a smith from the Street of Steel had taken him in.

Tara looked at her boy with proud eyes.

"He brings more coin home than his father ever did."

Nora pouted. "I'm doing my needlework, m'lady, do you want to see?"

Aliena followed the girl.  
"See? I've sewn a cloak, m'lady, and a dress. Mother says I could sell them one day!"

"In the distant future." Sandor muffled but thankfully, the girl did not hear him.

"I will try shifts and tunics first though, mother said." Aliena doubted that that would do much good but perhaps the girl would learn what she never had. Nora did have the enthusiasm, after all.

"I brought something for you." Aliena took something from the pocket of her gown. It was a little doll, made of pale linen and stuffed with wool. She had long blonde hair, perhaps from a horse.

"It is very pretty, thank you,m'lady." The girl said courteously. "I will sew some dresser for her."

"Do you still have enough fabrics and thread?" Aliena asked and Nora nodded but there was something she did not say.

"What is it? Do you not like the doll?"

Nora shook her head.

"It is very fine, m'lady." she said. "It's just...her hair. It should have been dark, like yours. I play Knights and Maidens, m'lady."

"There are blonde maidens, too, sweetling. Your hair is blonde. And the Queen is fair as well."

Nora wrinkled her nose. "The Queen is not a maiden and she is not kind."

" _Nora_!" Tara had heard the last words. "You will take that back, now." She gave Sandor a scared look. But he stared at the wall as if he had not noticed. Aliena could have kissed him for it. Should have kissed him for it. But didn't.

One of the old men looked at Aliena defiantly.

"Most here think the girl has the right of it. We only ever see you, m'lady, never the king or queen. You say they care but we see little of that."

Aliena cleared her throat, ready to tell some kind lie but Sandor spoke first.

"You see little of that because they don't. The Queen does not care for you, the king does not care for you and neither does the little rose. You only ever see _her_ " He pointed at Aliena "because she is the only one who gives a rat's arse for you. And you all know that."

Tara stood there, bowl and spoon in hand, but forgotten, Nora cried and said that she would really like a dark haired doll and one of the old men got up on shaky legs.

"Thank you, Hound. For the truth." Aliena was not sure whether he would offer him his hand but Sandor only nodded and the man sat down again.

"The stew, tara." he reminded her as if nothing had happened and Tara remembered and made a big fuss until everyone sat down on the tree trunks and loose stones that served as stools and benches,

They both got a bowl of squirrel stew. It was not her first so the strong earthy taste was nothing new but Sandor coughed heavily after his first spoon.

"Hot." he gasped but Aliena knew what it was.

They left before the sun had set and parted with promises.

Only when they walked up Aegon's Hill did he speak about it.

"That was the worst thing I've ever tasted."

"It's … strong." She admitted, stifling a laugh. It was not kind to laugh, nor was it fair. They ate what they could afford and they were generous to share it with them.

"Aye." he nodded. "That it is."

He didn't speak for a few steps. Then he cleared his throat. "They all like you. Not only for the silver. But why do you visit them?"

It took her a while to reply.

"First out of a sense of duty. No one else did. Now because I like them, some of them, at least. tara and her family and a few others, too.

My mother always took me down to the village at Storm's End and Jesmond. Not only to give alms but to sit and talk to them as well. She never shared their bread and stew but I think it makes them proud. They do not have much to give and they know I dine better in the keep. But they want to give me something in return.

Tara used to give me little wooden toys her husband had carved. Tommen played with a few of them and Myrcella, too, and some I gave to other children. I still have one, though. A swan with antlers and a little crown." She chuckled. "I keep it hidden because it would certainly raise questions but it is a gift I cherish all the same." A fit of boldness took hold of her. "I kept the rose you gave me, too. It's hidden behind the drapes of my bed."

It was a pleasure to see the surprise on his face, followed by an unconvincing mask of indifference.

"It's just a flower." he said. "You should throw it away. It's wilted and dried up now anyway."

"I will wilt and dry up." she said and smiled. And added, softly. "I would not want to be thrown away for that."

He stopped abruptly and looked at her with an intensity that made her skin tingle.

"Are you a bloody flower?" he asked rudely.

"Some would say that a woman's redeeming qualities are that of a flower: Beautiful, sweet-smelling, quiet and pliable."There were far too many who thought so.

"Some would." He nodded and started walking again, so quickly that she had to hurry to keep up. "They won't get more than that though." he added, in a rasp that was as low and breathy as a cool autumn breeze.

 _He doesn't agree with them._ Somehow it made her feel lighter that he thought so. _He does not only like me for my looks._

It was an idle thing to say, vain and overly confident. But it had happened to her often. Balon liked her for her looks and her skills with a bow, Andar had loved her for her eyes and her smile, he had said so himself. _What does_ he _like me for?_ She was too afraid to ask but she would have loved to know.

They reached the holdfast before dusk.

"The Queen has been asking for you, my lady." Ser Osmund Kettleback looked her up and down, took note of the dirty hem of her gown, the loose strands that had escape the hairnet. Then he looked at Sandor's white cloak, bespattered with mud.

"You have soiled your cloak, Clegane." he said and laughed as if he had made a great joke. _Joffrey would have taken a liking in you. He was always fond of those who were slow of mind but quick of tongue. And of me. He was fond of me._ What did that make her?

"I'm not the first." said Sandor. "Others soil it by wearing it, Kettleback. Now let the bloody drawbridge down or does the queen want the lady to freeze still here?"

He said nothing else but slowly, as if unintentionally, his hand rested on the plain hilt of his sword. And Kettleback hurried.

"Let down the bridge, Trant, you fool. It is the Lady Swann."

'Lady Swann' was not her correct title as she was neither titular nor _de facto_ lady of Stonehelm. Nor did she want to be. But she let it slip.

Back in the safety of her chambers, she giggled like a maiden.

"Ser Osmund told me he scared you off with his sword." She knew he would find that funny and indeed, Sandor almost roared with laughter.

"Aye, he would tell you that. The rats in the kitchen stand a better chance of scaring me off."

"I never knew you were scared of rats." she quipped.

"Something 'bout them long tails." he grinned and made her blush. She was not used to something _vulgar_.

She tried to cover up her embarrassment by asking a question but judging by his smug expression, he noticed anyway.

"He claims he's been knighted by a Ser Robert Stone in the Disputed Lands."

"There are gold cloaks who claim they fucked the queen." Sandor gave back but Aliena only grinned: "Some are no doubt speaking the truth."

"That man is stinking of lies more than of horse and sweat. And if someone knighted him for prowess in battle, that man deserved to die." Sandor snorted. "Kettleback is as much knight as I am."

"I'm not sure whether I can agree with you." The candlelight painted his face softer, the burnt side was in the shadow. _Now he looks almost comely. If his brow was not so heavy, his jaw not so square, his eyes not so angry..._ Yet, her heart beat in her chest violently and she felt the familiar flutter of her stomach.

"Careful, girl-" he warned but she laughed at him.

"Sometimes, you're as great a fool as Dontos." she grinned and he took her meaning.

"I'm no bloody knight." he said, stressing every word.

"I know. I like that about you." The words were out before she had thought about them, that often happened with him.

Perhaps it was only the candlelight but she thought there was a sudden pinkness in his cheeks. Quickly, she spoke again:

"Kettleback should have been more inventive though. Ser _Robert_ , a bastard from the _Stormlands_? Truly? I know he wants to slip between Cersei's sheets, and really, he should have picked a different man to serve as a model for his false knight."

"Kettleback can't decide which cunt he wants most of the time, so he goes for all." Sandor sneered. "He's favoured half the serving wenches with his attentions by now, and the whores think of clinking coins when they hear the name."

 _As they once did when they heard of you._ The thought was there before she could do anything about it but she hoped he did not see it. If he did, he did not show.

"What about his brothers?" she asked, quickly.

"Even worse. They're all full of themselves, cocky bastards with slow swords but quick tongues." She couldn't have put it in better words.

"I have to see the queen." Suddenly, she stood right in front of him again. Took his hand and drew lines over the back of it with her thumb. "Am I your duty tonight?"

He seemed to find that funny.

"Aye." No sign that he was looking forward to it.

"Would you rather get some sleep?" she asked, scared that he might say yes. He had not slept much since Joff's death, none of the white cloaks had.

"I like my sleep", he said and the words twisted in her stomach like a knife. But then he removed the loosened hairnet with great care and tossed it on her bed. Buried his fingers in her hair. Brushed against her bare neck with his thumb. And she understood what he did not say. _But I like you more._ She wished he would say it. She wished he did. But she remembered her own feelings when the words had escaped, the short moment of nakedness. For a man who had worn mail and plate all the time since the tender age of twelve, it was surely even harder. _I had my mother, and my uncle as well, somehow. But he had no one._ He had never told her about his mother. Nor about his sister. Perhaps she would ask him tonight.

She looked up to find him staring at her, questions in his eyes. _He wonders what I am thinking._ His eyes darted to her lips, then back to her eyes. She felt the strange pulling sensation in her tummy again, queasy, but in a pleasant way, like nothing she had ever felt. _Kiss me._ He did, but only on the forehead.

"The queen is waiting. Fly, little swan."


	33. Chapter 33

**I noticed that I totally screwed up the structure of this story from chapter 19 to 23. Apparently, I never uploaded the chapters 21 (new) and 22 (new) but instead uploaded the old chapters from my other story. There was not much coherence and I now understand why it all seemed out of context. So for everyone who wondered about that: Yep, I got it wrong, but I corrected it now and hope it makes more sense. That's also why this story is now one chapter shorter. I'm really sorry.**

 **Nyany4:** I am happy you liked it and truly grateful that you can forgive me ;) Yes, the thing about Loras...I was not at all sure. I just felt like he changed a lot since Renly's death and takes slights upon his honour very personal because he feels guilty for not having been able to protect Renly as he should have. So in a different situation, he might have reacted differently to Sandor, but it was more that he felt his capability was questioned and it was salt in an open wound. But I'll give it some thought (after my exams I will have more time) and edit that part. I thank you a lot!

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou:** I thank you! I am happy that you like their chemistry. :)

So I wasn't quite sure how much time passes between the purple wedding and the first day of trial but I thought about a week, perhaps more. If you know more than me, please tell me!

Thank you.

* * *

 **King's Landing, a few days later**

 **Sandor**

"You certainly do not want to _defend_ him?" Cersei Lannister looked frantic. "It was _your_ duty to protect him! You _failed_ and now you do not even want to give evidence against him! I call that treason." Her voice was high-pitched and shrill.

Sandor did not look at the queen. Tywin Lannister sat next to his daughter in an ironic juxtaposition. She all rage and fury, he calm and controlled.

"Sit down, Cersei." he told her and after a short glance at Sandor, she did.

"You will tell them what you saw?" Tywin asked.

"Aye. I saw him with the wine. I saw him slap the boy. But he's a coward and not bold enough for such an act." Sandor shrugged.

"You will forgive me when I say that we know him better." The queen snapped. "He is my brother and bane and we have been forced to endure his presence all his life."

That was what it was about. Sandor didn't give two shits for the imp but he would not kill him with words. That was _her_ thing, not his.

"Enough, Cersei." Tywin Lannister's face was as if carved from stone but Sandor could sense not only his annoyance but also his disquiet.

"It will be a just trial. All we require of you, Clegane, is the truth."

 _Aye, and that's as sharp as any sword if you leave some bits out._ She had said as much last night, after she'd come back from the queen. Cersei had wanted her to lie, too. But strangely, she had refused. _"The truth will not be able to save him, no more than lies would. I could find the true murderer and it would be found that Tyrion ordered Joffrey's death. Cersei will not let go of this opportunity and neither will Tywin. He wants him spared, but he wants him out of the line for Casterly Rock. There's nothing he fears more than Tyrion on the Lord's chair."_ she had said and Sandor had agreed. This trial was a farce and he refused to take a part in it.

Sandor nodded. There was no use in pointing out the obvious.

But the queen was not yet done. "You were his shield! Your brother will do what you can't. There is a reas-"

" _Be quiet, Cersei._ "

Tywin was not longer hiding his annoyance. It was plain that Sandor was not supposed to hear this. _Gregor._ Of course. Should the imp choose trial by battle, the Lannisters would use their favourite beast. It was folly with the Dornishmen present but he had a feeling that it had been the queen's work, not the Hand's. _The imp will need a champion._ This could be it. What he had waited for all his life. Sandor was distracted by the thought for a moment. Then he came to his senses again.

"Is that all?" he asked.

The old lion eyed him with suspicion. "You are on duty, I think." he said coolly and Sandor was dismissed.

All knights of the Kingsguard would give evidence against Tyrion, all but Jaime Lannister who had not been present and was the accused's brother. If it was Sandor in the imp's position, he'd go for trial by combat. There was more justice in that than in the trial his sister had in mind for him.

He met the Lord Commander in the ward.

"Sandor." Jaime Lannister was one of the few who called him by his first name. "Was my sister-"

"With the hand." Sandor nodded towards the high tower to his left. "Collecting evidence against your brother." Jaime looked unhappy. There were few men whose faces were as easy to read as the Lord Commander's.

"Where are you heading for?" Jaime asked, careful to sound casual but his worries were plain on his face. H _e looks older by a decade._ His face was hollow, his cheeks gaunt, his hair cropped short.

"Guard the Swann girl." Sandor said. "So that no one tries to clip her wings."

"That was Cersei." The shorter man said apologetically. He apologised for the long nights in which Sandor could not sleep. But he had never felt better than at the moment, stronger, more vigorous. _The imp should go for trial by combat._

"It's only you and Balon, isn't it?" Jaime continued. "After the trial that won't be necessary anymore." When he realised what he said, anger conquered his features. "I'll go and see my beloved sister, then. And the Lord Hand."

The fight between Jaime and his father was an open secret and Sandor was mildly impressed. He had aged not only outwardly, it seemed. The golden boy of Casterly Rock had always been an obedient son, an obedient brother, but the Riverlands had turned the boy into a man. _The queen won't like that,_ Sandor thought as he took the many steps that led up to her chambers in the northernmost wing of the Holdfast.

Her solar was empty but he found her sitting on her bed, reading. When she saw him, she put the book aside without marking the page. She smiled. Whenever she saw him, the hint of a smile flickered across her face. He found it ironic that he was so much better at hiding his feelings than her and the thought, that she was unable to hide it completely, delighted him more than it should.

"How was it?" she asked.

It was a casual question. They had both gotten used to this, the late night talks, the intimacy. It would be hard to be apart again after the trial. He did not allow the thought to linger. What could he do about it? He had tried to convince her, he couldn't. He forced himself to focus. They did not have many nights left, after all, and he would savour every moment of it.

"Your aunt wanted me to lie but the old lion knew I wouldn't. They'll use the truth to cut his head off, they don't need a lie, he knows that much."

She was not happy with that. "There is nothing I could do..."

"Why do you even care?" Sandor asked, curious. She seemed to care more about the imp than she had cared about her uncle. "He's not your friend, you know that."

"No, he's not. But how can I sit here and watch this injustice unfold with my hands in my lap?" He loved her for this. _Liked_ her for this.

"You're fighting a shadow then, swan. That's how it goes, I don't need to tell you. How often have you watched? Injustice thrives here like wheat in the Reach and you can't stamp it out no matter how much you weed."

She did not say that he was cruel. She knew he was right. Stark had died on the steps of the sept right in front of her, she had seen her uncle die in the bed he shared with the queen.

Wearily, she rubbed her eyes. "Yes. I have watched." she nodded. "Watched them kill my uncle, watched them kill Arryn and Stark. Now they make me one of them, though. I will swing the sword as much as you, although I don't want to."

It was an absurd thought, her with a sword. "The sword is not your weapon, girl", he said and she gave him a thoughtful look.

"Yes, that is true..." She swayed her head. "Sometimes, you're not utterly useless." She grinned. Whatever plan she had, she did not share it and Sandor did not care enough to ask.

"Pleased to serve, my lady." he said, mocking the tone of his sworn brother and she took up the hint.

"Balon is awfully boring." she confided as she stood up. "He stands by the door all night and dares not even look at me once I take off my nightrobe."

"He misses out." Sandor grinned. He knew that she wanted to make clear that Swann stood no chance and he was thankful...and could not help to feel smug. He didn't know why she preferred him but he was done questioning her motives. She liked him, that was plain enough, and at the moment, he did not need more than that.

She smiled and he noticed the light pink that had risen to her cheeks. There was no sweeter sight.

"Shall we play?" she asked. They played card most nights, although at some point they would just forget the cards and talk until the sky outside turned bright purple and the sun crept up from behind the horizon. It always surprised him how short a night could be, how hours turned into a moment with her.

"Nice try, swan." He laughed. "You still owe me a song."

She glanced up at him with feigned remorse. "I had hoped you would forget." she admitted.

"Bet you did. But even you have to pay your wager." He sat down on _his_ chair by the window and grinned. "I'm listening."

With an expression of defeat did she take her seat opposite him, mischief in her eyes.

"Which song shall I sing for you? I know so many." She gave him an innocent smile. " 'Meggett was a Merry Maid' ? 'Her Little Flower' ? 'Fifty-Four Tuns'? 'Six Maids in a Pool'?" the corners of her mouth twitched but she did not laugh. " Or maybe 'The False and the Fair'?" She pressed her lips together now.

"Perhaps something 'bout a girl who lost her tongue?" Sandor suggested.

"I fear there are few songs about that, normally, the girl can't sing of her fate afterwards and is in no state to tell someone her sad story." she grinned now.

"Keep that in mind, girl." He said darkly.

"Are you threatening me? I know a song about a man who made feeble threats. It's called 'The Name Day Boy' ".

"Are you trying to talk until this night is over, too?" He asked. "You're not half as clever as you think, swan." She took the insult with a laugh. _Every other woman would have raged or cried._

"Or perhaps you're just twice as clever as I thought." she quipped. "But I declare: I am defeated and I shall sing until my voice is hoarse and your ears bleed."

He laughed. "Start then, swan."

She gave him a long look. Then she grinned.

"A bear there was, a bear, a bear-" _I really should rip her tongue out._

 **The next morning**

 **Aliena**

When she had woken, the sky had been grey and cloudy, but the sun had come out and torn the clouds to pieces of fine wool that dotted the blue sky like a flock of sheep. She felt the sunlight warm on her skin as she walked over to the Maidenvault. _Autumn wants to show us how much we will miss it._ Aliena stifled a yawn, the nights with Sandor were taking their toll, especially when she had to rise early. But she had been invited to break her fast with the future queen.

It was early still, Cersei would not have risen yet, but Margaery and her grandmother seemed to be as early as the birds.

A table had been laid for ten but only Margaery was present.

"Aliena!" The young lady embraced her like a sister. "My grandmother is on her way but you must forgive my cousins and ladies. We played cards until the small hours last night." _Funny, so did I._

There was no trace of tiredness in Margaery's face though, her cheeks were twin roses, her skin a shade darker than Aliena's but spotless and glowing. She was radiant. _And near two years younger than me._ Aliena still felt young but she was almost eight and ten, as everyone was eager to point out these days.

"There is nothing to forgive." Aliena said pleasantly. "I love playing cards! Which game do you prefer?"

Margaery took her arm as she always did.

" _Peacock_. We play King's Call, too, but we are not yet used to gambling, I fear."

 _Peacock_ was a game children often played. It got its name from the colourful cards which looked like a peacock's tail on the player's hand. There was a pile of cards in the middle, and one was laid on the table, picture-side up. The first player had to play a card that matched the first one in either colour or picture. If he couldn't, he had to take a card from the pile and the next one had a turn. There were various other rules and penalties to make it more difficult for adults. Aliena imagined what Sandor would say to that and had to laugh.

"Will you share the joke with me?" Margaery asked, sweetly, but Aliena could tell she felt mocked.

"Forgive me. It was a wicked thought." Margaery would want to know.

"I will keep my lips sealed." the little almost-queen promised.

"Well, I just thought that "Queen's Call" would be more fitting, seeing as women rule these days."

"A most favourable development." Olenna Tyrell's strident voice no doubt woke the poor cousins from their sound sleep. She did have sharp ears, indeed. The small woman stood more than ten steps away in the great two-winged door, flanked by her guards.

"Although I fear you are forgetting the Hand in his tower. I understand you, child, we all haven't seen much of him since the wedding. Important letters, no doubt. The Hand's hand must hurt from all the scribbling."

"Grandmother." Margaery smiled. "Aliena has surely not come for your insolent remarks about Lord Tywin."

The Queen of Thorns looked at Aliena blatantly.

"I think, Margaery, that might be exactly what she has come for. Good morning, girl. At least you are up already. Sometimes I think this court does not wake before it has smelled the lunch from the kitchens."

They took their seats at the head of the long table and servants brought the food. Fresh bread, fried bacon, a soft white cheese, grapes (no doubt from the Arbor), strawberries, clotted cream, cold roast, little fish in a red sauce...The young queen set a tasty table. _If the smallfolk knew…_

"When is the wedding going to take place?" Aliena asked after a chat about the surprisingly mild weather and the lazy court.

"The wedding, my lady?" Margaery looked at her with innocent eyes.

"I thought that Tommen would take his brother's bride to wife. Forgive me if I have caused offense." Aliena put her hand on Margaery's green and black velvet sleeve.

It was the Queen of Thorns that replied. "Tywin has not given his consent yet, but he will."

That settled the topic for Aliena had no doubt that whatever Olenna wanted would happen.

"I shall once again address you as Your Grace, then." she said pleasantly to the girl that would be queen.

"You may call me 'Margaery" forever, dearest Aliena", Margaery laid a soft, elegant hand on Aliena's pale fingers. "...but I'd rather you call me 'sister'."

 _As thorny as her grandmother. But I shall beware, Varys._

"Forgive me?" Aliena feigned confusion.

"How old are you, girl?" Olenna asked. "Eight and ten? You've been old enough to marry for years. Cersei kept you close, surprisingly wise of her, but her days in power are over. It is time for you to leave this place." _No doubt._

"I am seven and ten, my lady. And I don't feel old enough for marriage yet..."

"It's not about your feelings, girl, you know that full well. You are a woman grown. And women in this world must marry. I had to as well. Some of us can choose whom, though. Be wise when you make that choice. You like your books, I heard, and are quite fond of leaves in your hair and saddle sores. My grandson is studious and kind, not the least bit oafish, and he enjoys riding as much as Margaery, despite his leg. He is kind, too. I guess you could do with some kindness, sweetling."

It would have sounded tempting...if it hadn't been for _him_. All thoughts of matrimony had finally left her that night in the stables. No. Willas would have been a perfect solution for all her potential troubles but she couldn't. _I am following my feelings in this. Not my mind. And it will bring trouble, no doubt._ But she was irrationally proud of her foolishness.

"Grandmother, you sound like a fishmonger down in the market square." Margaery scolded softly.

"Is that not what we are? Lord Tywin wanted to foist some rotten fish on us the other day. This is a market square, girl, and you'd be wise to take what we offer."

"No doubt every fishmonger would say that." Aliena retorted and Margaery laughed lightly, the sweetest chime.

"But I fear I don't like fish, my lady." Aliena smiled.

"And yet, as we grow up, we must eat what we don't like all the same." Olenna said. "There is no use in sweet words and empty phrases. Willas is older than you, for sure, almost six and twenty. But he is no fool and the heir of Highgarden besides. There is no one better for you, girl. None of the Swanns can offer you much. That Royce boy won't come back, and the Royces are just as stiff as the Starks, so you better count yourself lucky. Highgarden will be warmer than Runestone and not as dissolute as Sunspear, and we had a good harvest. You're a clever girl, I don't need to tell you this. You know full well what you'd gain." The old woman tossed her napkin on the table after her little speech. _Charming, truly._

She could not refuse but neither could she accept. So she did what she did best: Delay and smile with polite distance.

"I have a duty here, my lady. But Willas will wait if he is as wise as you say. I am salmon on a market overfull with cod."

Olenna gave her a sharp look.

"You know your worth. That is good. So you know that a match between the Tyrells and the Baratheons is most desirable. For you, too." _My castle. My claim._ But with Willas, Storm's End would never be hers, that was what the old woman did not understand. She wanted to get it back _herself_. Not through some husband. No, she wanted to be the one who took it. And her uncle Stannis still lived...

"My name is Swann." _If my name was Baratheon, my life would have been different._

"Your blood is Baratheon and that has become increasingly rare." Olenna had lost her pleasant tone a while ago. "You might be thankful for Highgarden's three walls one day, mind you."

Aliena swayed her head. "I shall think on it. If I wanted to marry, it would be Willas. I heard only favourable things about him and you might remember that I sent him a letter two years ago."

 _Him and twenty others._ But she did not deny that Willas would serve her purpose... _If_ she wanted to buy her castle with her hand and her cunt. But she didn't.

"Willas will not wait forever, girl, keep that in mind."

But the Queen of Thorns seemed content. And why wouldn't she? She did not know about the real obstacle that probably still lay sleeping in his narrow bed in the Sword Tower. For her, it was plain that Willas was Aliena's best option and she deemed Aliena clever enough to see the advantages. For Olenna, the issue was almost settled. V _arys knows me better, though. He knows that I would never marry, not before I got my hands on Storm's End and the Lord's chair._ Aliena prayed that he did not know about her real feelings for Sandor. It would place _him_ in great danger...Her stomach pulled together and Margaery seemed to sense her unease.

"We are all scared of matrimony." The young girl said reassuringly. "But Willas is very kind. He is not at all like-"

"I want my eggs." Olenna's voice cut through Margaery's. "I want them hot and I want them now. Gods, one could think you are all asleep on your feet." The servants hurried away, fear on the faces.

"Guard your tongue, Margaery, dear. These walls have ears and we must be careful."

Aliena nodded.  
"Very careful. Some here fear the roses' thorns."

"Those who do not dare to grasp the thorns should not crave the rose." Olenna retorted.

"Perhaps you should tell Lord Mace, my lady." Aliena said, perhaps too boldly. "The throne's swords are still sharp and those that come too close might get cut."

Olenna's eyes were as sharp as the throne's thousand swords and they scrutinised her.

"You're no fool, girl. But most here are. They see the silver shine of those blades, the huge bizarre shape, the cloth-of-gold drapes and simpering courtiers and tell themselves that it won't cut _them_. It might please you to hear that Willas does not take after his father. Nor after his mother."

"After his grandmother, perchance?" Aliena asked, innocently.

"I fear I have not praised him as much as I meant to." The old woman's laugh, honest laugh, was a rare thing and even Margaery seemed surprised.

"Do you take after your mother or your father?" Olenna asked, knowing the answer.

"My uncle used to say that I am like my mother."

"But you are not." Olenna said. "I knew your mother, sweetling. She was clever, no doubt. But proud and with a backbone quite like your other uncle." _Stannis._ "She was of the Stormlands, with a quick temper, an iron will and more stubbornness than sense. No doubt you like to hear that. But it did not serve her well, did it?"

No. I hadn't. Her mother had never charmed and deceived, but Aliena wondered whether that was really a bad thing. _I want to be like her. I always admired her._ But her mother had lead a different life. Aliena could not afford to be like Alyssa.

"All our heroes fall one day, girl. You have her looks, beyond a doubt, although you are prettier, for what it's worth. You have a little of your father in you, too. He was calmer than Alyssa, more bookish and charismatic, but lonely all his life until he met your mother...it was cruel that they had only such a short time together. Clifford's death left Alyssa greatly changed."

Aliena felt the tears burning in her eyes, but she couldn't allow herself to cry, not here in front of them. It was one of the old woman's tests and she would not pass it by crying. _Be strong. Don't let them see how much it still hurts._ She blinked the tears away but it was too late. Margaery had seen them and nothing escaped Olenna's attention.

"Grandmother." Margaery said softly. "Enough. It hurts her."

Olenna stopped and eyed her up. "Those odd eyes…" she said, more softly now. "An interesting combination...and quite telling."

 _Equal part of green and blue..but neither._ She had received compliments for her unusual eyes, had been told that they looked like dirty seawater. Sansa's were deep blue, Cersei's were emerald green, Margaery's were a rich brown. Hers had never been easily to label. As a child, she had asked a woods witch to make them blue, like her uncle's. _In your eyes lies your destiny, child._ The woman had said. She had taken three coppers though, for her efforts. Aliena briefly wondered which destiny that was. _A woods witch's words. Not a prophecy._

The servants brought the eggs, scrambled and fried ones, and then they ate in peace although the words were still there, like a punch in the stomach. She could not quite locate the pain, but it was there, dull somehow, a shadow of what it once was. _It will never go._ She was glad when her time had come to leave the Maidenvault. Margaery accompanied her.

"My grandmother can be very insensitive but she did not mean to hurt you. She likes to push ...and sometimes, she pushes it too far." There was an apology in her words, an honest one, although she did not say it out loud.

"I know." Aliena nodded.

"I hope you do consider Willas. Not only for …" She looked at her shoes, then she shrugged embarrassedly. "I would like to call you sister. And I have a feeling that Willas would like to call you wife."

 _He never will._ No doubt Willas was kind and educated and generous. Perhaps he could make her happy. But Aliena knew that he would never be able to make her heart run riot in her chest, to empty her head and sent her stammering. And now that she had felt all this, the most exquisite mixture of confusion and hope and embarrassment and joy, she knew she could never settle for less. She liked Margaery, she really did. But she could not give her the truth.

"I do consider. I have been alone all my life." That was the truth. "It takes time to accept that I have to give up my freedom." That was true as well. "But if I think about marriage, I think about Willas." she said shily. This was a lie. And she prayed to all Seven, even the Stranger, that it would not reach _his_ ears.

But when had the Gods ever listened to her prayers?


	34. Chapter 34

FanFiction is bugging (again, sigh), I didn't get email alerts for chapters and I'm sorry if you didn't either.

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou** : Thank you for reviewing so faithfully! Yes, I really like Willas, too! Perhaps, once I'm done with my Sandor stories... A girl can dream^^

I do whole-heartedly reccomend "A Lion in Highgarden" by bnsolo, it's on Archive Of Our Own and the best Willas fanfic I have read so far. It's OC-centric, though. Sansa belongs somewhere else, I feel.

I wasn't quite sure whether we know when Sandor's sister was born, so if anyone knows whether she was older or young, please tell me!

Also please forgive me, I'm a sucker for obvious symbolism I fear.^^

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy it :) Whether you enjoy it or not, please review! Positive feedback motivates me and constructive criticism helps me a lot, I appreciate it greatly.

* * *

 **The same day, after nightfall, Aliena's bedchamber**

 **Aliena**

"I heard congratulations are in order." There was the voice that could send grown men running: Low, rasping like raw wood on an old saw, with an underlying rage so forceful that Aliena had to suppress the urge to back away. She did not have to ask what he meant.

"Sandor…" she started, not knowing what she wanted to say. _I don't want anything but you. I lied, you know I always do. Don't be cross with me. Smile, laugh, jape. Look at me as if you want to undress me. Look at me as if you want burn the image into your mind. But do not look at me like this._ She said nothing of it of course. He still looked at her like that, eyes guarded, his face a sneer.

"He has a crippled leg but you must think that an improvement. The last one used to beat you for his enjoyment."

"I never consented-" she started but he did not wait to listen.

"And of course you were always a bloody perfect little liar. Before long, the boy will believe himself invincible, it will take only a few whispers, won't it? A few bloody whispers and he's yours. A touch here, a kiss there, a smile, a tear and he will forget his mother's face." His tone was no longer sneering but bitter. _He is talking about himself._

"I will never go to Highgarden." she said. "I will never marry him."

"He is just another one, isn't he? Another step on your bloody ladder to whatever it is you want." He had let the portcullis down, she saw, his eyes were cold, his face betrayed no emotion but scorn. His voice gave him away, though, a hint of pain, although overpowered by anger.

"How can you think that of me?" she asked, despairing. "I thought it was clear-"

"Oh, it is, girl. Clear as a drunk man's piss." His voice was full of bitter mockery. "Leave me out of your deceptions."

He made for the door but she stepped in front of him.

"Will you not even listen?" she asked, trying to meet his gaze but he stared at the door.

"Move, girl." he rasped but did not to touch her.

"I said I will never go to Highgarden. I said I will never marry him, neither him nor any other lordling. But I have to pretend that I consider them, to play out time. For now, the Tyrells are preoccupied with Tommen and Margaery for now, and for Tywin, there is the trial to think of. But after that... I cannot do what I want. You know I can't. You call this my golden cage, perhaps it is. And I will stay here. How can you possibly think I would just leave, I would just take someone else when -"

She did not continue, there was a lump in her throat.

"Move aside, girl." he said, but far less angrily now.

"Did it all mean _nothing_ to you?" Aliena wanted to know, her heart thumping in her chest, dreading the answer.

He looked at her for the first time now and she did not like what she saw. Eyes full of hurt and rage, a mouth tight with anger and scorn.

"You dare to ask me? I've been in the guards' hall, do you want to know what they say?" He asked, cruelly. "Do you?" She was pretty sure she didn't but that wasn't something she could say. So she nodded.

"Her pretty cunt goes to waste, first the boy who did not know what to do with it, now that cripple from the Vale who can't use it properly", he said, citing some guard, Aliena hoped.

"But that is just...talk." She could not understand why it angered him so. There had been cruder things said about her, of that she was quite certain.

"Just talk?" He scowled as he spoke. "They'd give you to some cripple, leagues away from here, and it's just _bloody talk_?" Now, she understood. It was not the way they had spoken about her, it was the news that had shocked him so. He had really thought she would go.

"But I would have told you-" she started.

"Would you?" he asked, his voice a whip. "You have lied so often, swan, I can never tell truth from lie with you."

"I have not lied to you." she said...and moved out of the way. "I have been truthful to you, I have -" She thought about all the things she had said, the things she had done for him. She had made a fool out of herself and here he stood, accusing her of having been dishonest.

"Go." she said, coolly. "If you think like that, get the hell out of here." She did not raise her voice.

He looked at her.

"Are you deaf?" she asked. "As well as stupid?"

"Swan-" he started, and suddenly there was an insecurity in his voice that made _her_ angry. He believed some drunken man's words more than hers. And now, suddenly, his sense took over and he stood there, helpless as a little boy.

"No, call me 'girl'. There are so many, after all, aren't there?" She was being unfair, but so was he. His accusations stung, she had tried so hard to be different, tried hard to please him.

He was so quick that she had not even noticed he was moving. She had no chance to get away.

"Don't-" he said, as he pressed her against the wall with two hands, staring at her face with a mixture of rage and regret. "Don't _ever_ again…."

To her great shock, he made a sound that sounded almost like a sob, just different...like a wounded animal, perhaps.

"How was I supposed to know?" he asked now, his grip around her waist painfully tight. "You never said a word-"

"I forgot!" She put her hands on his to stop him from rattling her like a disobedient child. "It was not exactly a pleasant thing to remember and when you're here I don't think-" _Yes, that is true. I don't think, that was very precise._

"You're not leaving?" he asked, quietly now.

"No." she replied, and gathered courage. "Not without you."

He replied nothing to that but he put her down again and Aliena was thankful for the cold stone under her velvet slippers.

"I shouldn't have-" he started.

"You should have trusted me." she agreed. "I don't lie to you, Sandor." As always, his name rolled off her tongue like a Myrish song, full of feelings and desires and dreams. Would they ever come true?

A thought popped up in her head and she had to smile.

"Would you have rescued me?" she asked, breathlessly. "From the bad, bad cripple?"

He smiled, although he was still troubled.

"You got the story wrong, swan. It's not the beast that rescues the maiden from the knight."

"Somehow, _you_ managed to get it all wrong." She teased him. "Willas is no knight. I am no maiden. And you-", she caressed his cheek lightly, "-are not a beast."

It always delighted her to see his eyes soften. And his kiss delighted her even more. She felt light headed again, as if she had too much wine, and the fight seemed foolish and unnecessary in hindsight. _I should have told him. He should have trusted me._ It would not happen again.

"Play with me." she smiled. He sat down at the table and started to shuffle the cards until she put her fingers on his.

"I thought of a different kind of game."

She sat down opposite him, careful to let her nightgown slip down her shoulder an inch or two. Normally, she won a few rounds like this until he told her, with feigned anger, to pull her sleeve back up and that it counted as cheating.

He was on his guard. "Which game?" he asked.

"A question-answer game. I ask you a question and you must reply truthfully. And then you can do the same."

He laughed. "That's not much of a game." he said. "Who wins?"

"Why, we both." she smiled. "You might be tired of winning against me anyway."

He was a better card player than her and had started to leave the things he'd won from her on the table. They still lay there, on the side, jewels and purses, a swan carved from onyx and one from crystal, a stag of dragon glass her mother had given to her. He had taken a page with a Valyrian song translated by her and written down artfully in colourful ink and a small swan made of wood with eyes and wings and beak carved out beautifully. He had also taken a length of silk, the sash of her bedrobe that Kenna had been looking for frantically, but he had given it back to her the night after the next because he had lost most rounds the night before when her bedrobe had gaped open. He had taken songs and stories as well, she remembered with a smile. Only the night before, he had cursed her...but had listened till the end all the same.

"I'm never tired of that." he grinned and there was only a hint of glumness in it. "But you've run out of things to give me."

She gestured at the pile on the table. "You haven't taken most of it."

"I don't want that stuff." he said flatly. "People might wonder why you're running around like a beggar if I take all your stones."

"Worse, if we play much longer, you'll have won all my gowns, too. They will look good on you, I'm certain", she quipped.

He grinned wolfishly. "Another round then, swan." he said. "How many gowns do you have?"

"We'd play all night." she laughed.

"It'd be worth it."

As always, she felt blood rising to her cheeks and as always, he enjoyed to make her blush. This time, she thought of a fitting reply in time, though.

"Careful. You'd lose it all again", she said and he laughed at that, properly, honestly.

"That is true." he admitted. "Your little game then. Ask what you want to know." he said, but she could see that he was tense.

"Shall we say...if it's a question we do not want to reply to, we can give it a pass?" she asked.

He laughed at that, too. "No worries, swan, I'll behave", he japed - and she could feel her cheeks redden which he found amusing again.

Her first question sobered him, though. "Do you still remember your mother?"

"Yes." he said, flatly. And kept his mouth shut.

"Do you give it a pass?" she asked.

But he shook his head. "I remember her. Not her face, I was not more than four when she died. But she sang a lot. And read or prayed. She had one of those books for the Gods. That didn't help her in childbed though, nor did it help the child." _Died in childbed and the babe with her._ That was cruel.

Aliena waited but he said nothing else.

"Your turn." she said then, somehow anxious and awkward.

"Why do you always walk around on the battlements?" he asked...and she swallowed.

"Because I'm scared of heights." She did not like to admit it.

He was baffled. "But you always stand so close to the edge."

"Would you try to fight your fear of fire by watching the hearth from a distance?" she asked.

"It was my mother...although you'll be sick of hearing about her. Storm's End has walls a hundred feet high on the landward side...but far higher on the seaward side. On stormy days, you would look down and see the waves hitting the rock...so far below. There's something that pulls you down, I find, some power that grabs your heart and squeezes it, that makes you feel as if you could slip and fall any moment." She shook her head. "My mother made me walk along the crenellations, she made me look. On the first day, I managed ten steps or less, on the second twelve...until I managed the whole wall. When my mother died, I did it to feel close to her. And now I just do it for the sake of it." _And to feel close to her._

He nodded but didn't comment. "You go."

"Did you have a sister?" There was talk of a sister, rumours about her grisly end but no one had ever seen her, and she wanted to know...

His mouth grew tight.

"What is it with you and my family, swan? They're all dead, if that's what you want to know."

"I don't-" she said defensively but he interrupted her:

"Elenor. She was some three years older than me, three years younger than Gregor. Her face I remember. She died when I was six or thereabouts. Before my brother gave me these." He pointed at the scars that disfigured his face. "She liked to stay inside, or perhaps she just stayed to protect me." _From Gregor._ "She smiled a lot." Now he scowled again. "And then she didn't smile anymore. Fell out of her window." He gave a short bark of a laugh. "A lot of accidents happened in my father's keep...and now in my brother's."

She noticed again how cruel life was sometimes. He would be a different man had his brother never been born, had his father been stronger. _The scars run deep._

"Don't pity me." he said with a hint of annoyance.

"I don't." she replied truthfully and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I wonder-" she said and he smiled now, a strained smile: "It's my turn, swan."

He gathered courage for something, took a swallow of wine. "What were you thinking when I asked you, back on the kingsroad, when you slipped on the steps to your wheelhouse?"

She wouldn't have thought that he still remembered. That had been almost two years ago, almost like a different life. _I wanted him then, but common sense was still ruling my heart._ She remembered that moment as if it had been yesterday.

"You had just saved me from a pack of hungry wolves." She smiled. "And then you told me that I was a fool."

"Still think so." He grinned but there was something else...disappointment? "You give it a pass?"

"No." _Though this will be embarrassing._ "You didn't speak to me properly, so I was angry. But on the steps…" She had slipped and he had caught her. _As so often._ "I thought that you were not handsome."

His expectant face turned into a sneer and hid his disappointment well. "That was an unexpected discovery, for sure", he snorted and took another swallow of wine.

"Will you not let me finish?" She asked, smiling. "I thought that your face was not handsome...but that I preferred it over those of Jaime, and Renly, and Loras Tyrell, over all other faces I knew."

"You're a greater fool than I thought." he said but she could see that he liked her reply _._

"Your turn." he said. Now that he had asked a question about _them_ she could, too. And she remembered what she had wondered the other day.

"What do you like about me?"

He was taken aback for a moment. Then he laughed.

"Do you want a list, swan? I didn't know you were so eager for compliments."

He lit a fire in her stomach. "I have received more compliments from the stable boy than from you, that is not what I'm asking for. But fine, you give it a pass."

 _He doesn't know what he likes about me._ Somehow, all the wicked excitedness had drained from her. _This is a stupid game._

He reached over the table and took her hand. His was always warm, always rough and calloused and he always held hers a little bit too tightly.

"Don't." The words sounded pressed and he let go of her hand a moment later, as if he had burned himself. _I have ventured to far. He is not comfortable._ She was about to take the question back when he began to speak.

"You're different. They all want power, or gold, or glory. Girls dream of a handsome knight with a fine keep, dresses and dances and favours. You don't. Never did, not even as a child. All you want is a nest." he stopped and she thought he was done but then he cleared his throat again. "You see what others don't see, swan."

Sweet relief took hold of her. _He knows me better than I thought. Better than anyone, actually._ She was not sure whether that frightened or delighted her. Perhaps both.

"I shouldn't have asked." She said. "I'm sorry."

But he shook his head. "No. You deserve it. You're pretty, you know you are. But it's not why." _He even knows why I asked._ This was getting too close.

"Your turn." she said, anxious to change the topic.

But he reached out to touch her face, traced the line of her cheekbone with his thumb.

"It's getting late, swan." His mouth twisted into a half-burnt smile. "Tomorrow's the first day of the trial. You should sleep."

He ended the game. _Perhaps for the better._

They both got up. The sky outside was still littered with stars, "the Gods' eyes" some called them. The window looked out on the sea and where black sea met black sky, a hundred leagues away, ink was already fading to indigo. She noticed that he looked at her.

"Once the trial is over I won't need a guard anymore." she said, knowing what that would mean. There was no place where they could go, nowhere where they could meet in private. And if he vanished in her room every night, questions would be asked.

He wrapped a curl of her hair around his finger.

"No." he agreed. _He knows._ How could he be so calm? _He has offered me a way out and I refused._ She would find another way. The thought of lonely nights, of days full of furtive glances and stifled smiles was a cruel one. There was no going back from here, she could not relinquish their nights. _We were both lost and lonely._ She could not speak for him but she, at least, no longer felt alone, in fact, she had never felt like this, never been this happy and confused.

 _The trial could be over the day after tomorrow._ And then, this would end as well. A last game, a last kiss, a last playful discussion.

He stood in front of her in his pale white breastplate with the silver mail shirt underneath. _He always wears plate when he is here._ Of course, he was here to fight off imps and other dangerous creatures.

"Take off your plate." she whispered. "And your mail." He did as she asked after a long moment of silence.

"I have never kissed you without steel between us", she explained and before she closed her eyes, she saw that his had become as dark as the night sky outside.

It was as different as the sun fromthe moon. When she leant into the kiss, she felt warmth instead of cool metal. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her up to seat her on the table, and she felt the muscles working under his skin, felt a scar here and there through the thin fabric, felt his hair brushing against the back of her hands. He stood between her legs and she was aware that the nightgown had ridden up almost to the knees. He held her in his arms, pressed against him, his hands on her back, in her hair, on her neck, caressing her almost tenderly.

The kiss was different as well. It started innocently enough, but perhaps, longing and fear of losing all this fuelled their passion and they got more demanding. Aliena felt his tongue dancing with hers, the touch sending jolts of ecstasy down her spine and goosebumps down her arms. There was something else, too, an odd feeling in her stomach, strange but intense, pulling somehow, warm, but also as if she had eaten too many lemons. There was a strnage throbbing sensation between her legs, and she longed for more although she was not quite sure for what. She wanted to pull him closer, feel him on her skin. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she pulled his body closer to hers, ran her hands over his chest, buried one in his straight black hair that was thicker on the right side of his head. She felt how he tugged at the collar of her bedrobe, pushed it down her shoulders and she quickly shook it off so that it pooled around her waist. His fingers roamed over her naked shoulders, her barely-covered back, down her arms and waist, only covered by her thin silk nightgown. But not once did his hands venture too far down her back, not once did he so much as brush against her breasts and although he explored the sides of her legs down to her naked knees, he did not go any further.

She was just about to gather the courage to unlace his tunic when he pushed her back so forcefully that she had to steady herself on the table with her hands. He took a step back, and then another one.

White was not a good colour on him, she noticed, at least not all white. He looked more imposing in it but also oddly out of place and it clashed with his stature and colouring. His face was strained, his hands clenched into fists.

He stared at her with dark eyes. Suddenly, she became aware of how she must look: Naked up to the knee, her nightgown half fallen off her shoulders...and the fabric was thin. She pulled down the hem of the shift and saw that her nipples were clearly visible...and hard. _I must look like some shameless whore._ Embarrassed, she pulled on her bedrobe, wrapped it tightly around her treacherous body.

"It is late." he said, with a dusky voice. "Go to bed." Was he angry with her? She was insecure. Had she done something wrong? He went to pick up mail and plate and only then did she saw the bulge in his breeches. She tried not to stare. _That is why he pushed me away,_ she realised. _He did not want to…_ Well, what? She had lost her innocence years and her maidenhead weeks ago. _He does not want to dishonour me._ Yes, that was it perhaps. He had an odd set of morals, and she was not quite sure how they worked but it was quite like him to try and protect her honour, in a queer way.

 _Perhaps he is scared, too._ It was a consoling thought that she was not the only one. _I might have gotten weak. I would have but what would have happened then?_ She was thankful that he had been strong enough.

"Good night." He wore his plate again but it did not matter. He had taken off his armour today and she had liked him more than ever.

Aliena tried to kiss him but even on her tiptoes she could not reach his lips if he did not bend down, and he didn't, so she settle for an awkward kiss on his jawline. On the burnt side.

"Good night." she whispered softly and he gave her a strained smile.

"Go, swan." he said, not unkindly, and she did, blew out the candles, and pulled her covers up to her chin while he resumed his duty by the door, a pale shadow in the now dark room.

 **The next morning, the first day of the trial,** **The Throne Room of the Red Keep**

 **Aliena**

He was gone when she woke up and she prepared herself for the long day absent-mindedly. Only when Kenna cursed at her for putting her leg through a sleeve and almost tearing the delicate Myrish lace did she push the thoughts away forcefully and focussed on her duty. She would see him in the throne room later...

Balon was the first witness and his account started with a declaration of Tyrion's innocence. It was a clever scheme, Aliena had to admit from her place on the gallery. She stood on the Queen of Thorns' other side, in a mourning gown Cersei had sent her. She had given her a second gown, for the next day when she would give evidence.

Down below her, Balon had finished his account reluctantly. Ser Meryn followed and elaborated on the sorry incident when Tyrion had slapped Joff. He did not say _why_ he had slapped him, though, and the dwarf was boiling with anger. Then it was Sandor's turn.

"Aye, he kicked him, and pinched him and insulted the boy." he admitted and elaborated on those incidents when Tywin inquired. "He slapped him more than once, when the boy had been cruel or foolish." Cersei did not like this but Tywin's cool look taught her silence. "But the imp's a coward." Sandor continued. "And killing a man at his own wedding, in front of the eyes of a thousand people, takes balls the dwarf lacks." Sandor looked at Tyrion. The imp stared back at him.

"You haven't forgiven me for the fire, have you, dog?" The dwarf asked with an ugly lop-sided smile.

" _Enough!_ " Lord Tywin directed his cold gaze at his son. "You will be quiet or you will be gagged. It is your choice."

Sandor stepped down from the pedestal while Cersei was trying to convince the judges to gag and chain her brother.

"An interesting concept, I find." Olenna murmured. "A trial that proves the guilt of someone who has already been condemned. I do hope it's not one of those fashions the capital adopted from the west."

In a whisper that was barely audible, Aliena replied: "Why, my lady, are you scared?"

Olenna gave her a short, scrutinising look. "You are very bold, child. It has brought many a man to an early grave."

"I count myself lucky then that I am no man."

"That is wise of you." The Queen of Thorns glanced down at the trial scene where Ser Osmund relished in giving his account of the events. Tyrion had gone beetred with anger at the outrageous lies. _Not long, and he will burst._ Olenna saw it, too.

" _Men_." She said, in a voice laced with scorn and pity. "They are all slaves, to one desire or another. Only our Lord Hand is as cold as a fish. Or so he would have us think."

Indeed, Lord Tywin sat stone still as he watched his son being condemned.

"His desire died long ago." Aliena whispered back.

"A pity." Olenna nodded. "But did it really?" _She talks about Tywin's obsession with the honour and prosperity of his House._ The Queen of Thorns was the most cunning woman Aliena had met. _She brought us here._ All this was her doing and she stood on the gallery next to the granddaughter she had protected and overlooked her work with a relaxation and serenity that was quite unnatural. _Cersei in her position would be as giddy as a maiden. I would be nervous. But to her, this is a fight between bugs that she follows with no more than a hint of interest._

Down below them, Lord Tywin lost his countenance for a short moment and bellowed at his twisted son.

"As I said." The Queen of Thorns smiled soflty and with satisfaction in her voice.

 **~o~**

It was already quite late when Aliena entered Cersei's chambers. Jaime was not there and she wondered briefly whether something was amiss between the two of them. Ser Osmund stood guard in front of the door and winked at her before he opened the door.

"Mourning becomes you, sweet lady." That was a tasteless thing to say and far too familiar for her taste. She just nodded in reply.

"Aliena!" Cersei was pleased, that was obvious enough. "Didn't it all go exceptionally well? Only a few more days and Joff finally gets the justice he deserves." _I hope he gets what he deserves in all seven hells._

"Yes, Your Grace." She smiled. "Everyone is convinced the imp is guilty."

Cersei gave her a sharp look.

"You don't?" Her voice was high pitched from the excitement.

"I find it a little too obvious, Your Grace. He might have put the poison in...I am unsure. But if he did, he did not act alone. It is as the Hound said: He is not bold enough."

Cersei gave her a long measuring look.

"I might have underestimated you..and this. Share your suspicions with me." The queen pulled her over to the window seat.

"I-..." Aliena hesitated a moment, a good liar never told her lies too readily. "I have spent some time with Lady Margaery and her grandmother, and they do not mourn for Joff. I know she has not known him for long but still…"

"And you think the old lady put the poison in the wine?" Cersei asked her incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous. How would she have brought the bottle in and slipped it in the wine? Her granddaughter drank from it, too. Not that I would have mourned her death but that old crone would have."

"Yes Your Grace. I just...I think it might have been Tyrion. But he plotted it with the old woman and the young bride. So Margaery knew when she shouldn't drink anymore." _Forgive me my treason, Gods, I beseech you._

Cersei swayed her head. "Yes. I think you might be right. I have already suggested that Tyrion might not have acted alone but Father dismissed the thought. He eats from the old woman's palm and does not see that the food is poisoned."

Aliena could tell that Cersei was pleased, she fancied that she had found out something her father didn't know. "He will see the truth, after Tyrion's trial, I will convince him. But first, do you know what you will say tomorrow?"

She nodded. "The truth, Your Grace. How much I loved the king, how much I still love him. That my heart is broken." A few tears crept up when she remembered all the things Joffrey had done to her. "I will also speak about Margaery, how we became friends in our grief and that only justice can ever make us happy again."

Cersei nodded eagerly. "Good. You've done well with the little whore and that wizened crone. Almost too well. Can I still trust you, Aliena? I'd be very cross if I found out you betrayed me."

 _You would never find out._

"Your Grace!" Aliena sounded equal parts hurt and upset. "But I did it all for you...And for Joff. I don't like them, the old woman wants to use me and give me to her crippled grandson and I will never forget how Margaery tried to push me aside, she tried to steal Joffrey from me. You are the only family I have."

 _Varys, the things I say for the good of the realm..or so you would have me believe._

She looked right into Cersei's beautiful emerald eyes and did her best to look guileless and hurt.

"Of course, sweetling." Cersei put a finger under her chin. "You must forgive me. It is the imp...he scares me greatly." She admitted. "The prophecy, you will remember."

"The _valonqar_ will be dead before the end of the week, Your Grace." Aliena smiled. "You have no reason to fear that silly prophecy anymore." _It will come true, you saw to that._

 **The second day of the trial**

 **Sandor**

The imp would choose trial by combat, everything else was suicide and stupidity. The queen wanted her brother's ugly head and the fat flower was more than ready to give it to her. True enough, even a trial by combat was not like to go well for the imp. No one wanted to sacrifice his life for a dwarf, no one wanted to fight _the Mountain that Rides_. Gregor would arrive soon, the Lannisters' most brutal and terrifying beast. _I will fight him._ Sandor decided. He had waited so long for this. All his life. Now, the time was ripe. _Revenge. A_ grim anticipation filled him as he crossed the yards and baileys to the Throne Room. Suddenly, what he had been waiting for was within his reach, and this was not the feeling he normally had before a battle. It was a cold satisfaction, mingled with a hint of fear. Not that he might die, no, he did not fear death. But he could not let Gregor win. _I will defeat him._ All these years he had studied his brother, he knew him better than anyone...and therein lay his advantage. Men knew of Gregor only that he was freakishly strong and brutal. Sandor, however, knew all his tiny weaknesses, knew his habits, knew his temper. His brother did not know him well, he had never bothered. _I will kill him. And then..._ He would be lord of Clegane's keep then, the sorry, squat towerhouse that had been granted to his grandfather but Sandor would never set a foot in that building again. It had never been a home and he cared not two shits about a pile of stones in the Westerlands.

He cared about _her_ , though. _Once Gregor's dead, I'll ask her again._ This was no place for her anymore, and she would see that soon enough. _Hopefully._ Thoughts and memories of last night came, unbidden and unwelcome. She had asked about Elenor and his mother and he had told her, told her what he had never told anyone. She had been shy, worried to overstep a line, worried to bring back memories he did not want to remember. But he had retrieved memories he _wanted_ to remember. _I thought that you are not handsome but that I prefer your face over all others._ Of course it had been a lie, his face was gruesome, he knew best, it stared back at him out of the dull looking glass every morning. But there had been honesty in her words, too and his heart had jumped as if he was a green boy with a milkmaid that blew him kisses. _Kisses..._ He had taken off his armour, had been longing for the feeling of her warmth on his skin and it had been almost too much to hold himself back. He was not good at restraining himself but he had managed although the blood had gone from his head and everything in him had screamed to part her legs only a little wider, get only a little closer, find the release he craved, he needed.

She had felt like a woman in his arms but when he had backed away, he saw a girl sitting on the table, embarrassed and surprised and scared that she had done something wrong. She had understood, later. She always understood him.

Sandor rubbed his eyes and concentrated on the beginning of the trial. The judges were taking their seats, the courtiers swarmed around like bees in a hive. He did not look for her although he wanted to.

The maesters opened the second day with a report on the boy's death. It was poison, they had found out now, too. _Only one week later than everyone else. They're getting quicker._ Pycelle was still his slow, self-important, long-winded old self, though and he bored Sandor spitless with his transparent attempts to show off his knowledge and tighten the noose around the imp's ugly neck.

The courtiers followed with their accounts, everyone who wanted to win the Queen's favour gave evidence against the imp, and it were many. He stood by the door and blocked out the different voices, female and male, but similar in their accusing tone.

 _Lickspittles and spineless worms, all of them._

What would _she_ say to his decision? Again, the thought came unbidden and he could not block it. Should he tell her that he would fight for the imp? Would she try to talk him out of it? Would she understand? He thought she might understand...but she would not approve. _I won't tell her._ It would make it all complicated where it could be easy.

Sandor tried not to give her another thought but it was easier said than done. She stood on the gallery with the Reach people, her new flock, and he saw only the right side of her face, an edge of her smile when the old woman said something, only one half of the stern expression she wore otherwise. He forced himself not to stare. _I won't tell her._ This was his battle to fight and she had nought to do with it. He wondered though, if she would have attempted to stop him.

The queue of courtiers that gave evidence against the imp became shorter. And then, as the last witness before the end of the second day, it was _her_ turn.

She stepped up onto the pedestal after some Myrish lady, a long-legged, full-breasted woman with an air of wickedness around her. Most men were still leering after her when Aliena started to speak. As soon as she had the hall's attention, though, she did not lose it again. The queen had given her the dress she wore, Sandor would have bet, and it had been a good choice. No one paid attention to their surroundings, she was the centre of attention.

It _was_ a mourning dress as it was all black and covered her to the throat. The skirt was made of some stiff, unshiny fabric, her waist looked even narrower than normally. It was the top half that drew the eye. A silver band decorated the deep neckline that showed the upper half of her tits. To keep up the appearance of decency, some sheer fabric covered her up to her throat where it was decorated by a golden lion's head brooch, but it did not hide much. The sleeves were sheer, too, and showed her elegant pale hands that she held as if in prayer.

A black veil embellished with diamond teardrops covered her loose hair and looked as lovely as dusk. When Sandor glanced around the hall, he saw that both, ladies and lords, had stopped their chatter to listen. She had a full voice that filled the hall and told of her great love for the late king.

"I do not know whether Lord Tyrion murdered our king." She admitted. "I do not see why he would. Joffrey was kind to him, made him acting Hand of the King and later Master of Coin. Lord Tyrion had every reason to be thankful. But I saw him serve the wine as well." Her voice broke now.

"I cannot condemn a man to die, good judges. All I ask of you is justice. Jofff's bride, Margaery, who has become as dear to me as a sister, is now a widow. And I am left without my cousin." Tears rolled down her pale cheeks now. "Joffrey deserves justice."

 _He deserved a beating. He deserved death._

"And his murderer deserves death. Justice, my lords, that is all I ask."

Lord Tyrell rose from his chair ponderously and announce with a deep baritone voice filled with feigned grief: "And that we will do, girl. We will bring justice to our late king, and all those who mourn for him. Have faith, my lady."

She gave him a tearful smile.

"Someone help the poor girl." The wizened old Tyrell woman squealed from the gallery. "She is all distraught." And Kettleback, a vision of chivalry in white and silver, helped her down the steps, staring at her tits. Sandor felt a stab of anger. _They should have taken the flower, he wouldn't have stared, at least._ She walked out of the hall with her head held high, and a thousand eyes followed her.  
All men would dream of her tonight and vow to stop her tears and give her what she asked for. It was a brilliant play, a scheme devised by roses and lions, with a swan as the sweet protagonist.

The imp had not enjoyed the perfomance though, his face was still as stone. Aliena had not accused him like the others but she had sentenced him to die all the same.

 _There is something she did not tell me._ Sandor remembered. A plan to save him. Perhaps he would ask her next time he was on duty. Tonight it fell to Swann to stand and watch her sleep though. There was a stab of jealousy in his side although he knew that the knight was no threat, and although he knew that he himself needed a good night's sleep after all the restless nights. _I won't be with her_ _but I'll sure as hell dream of her tonight._ Or so he thought.

Until he heard that his brother had arrived, under the cover of night, and had taken up residence in rooms at the far end of the city, as far away from the Dornish as possible, in a guesthouse. He could not find sleep and wandered around, to the barracks first, and found a few flagons of sour Dornish there. Then he continued, with a wineskin as his companion. Somehow, he found himself high up on the battlements. The stars were bright this night, but the moon was only a meagre sickle and it was dark up there. He walked over to the spot from which one could overlook the whole city, a few steps down from the main gatehouse. Somewhere, Gregor lay snoring in a bed in some inn, or perhaps he was raping a serving wench. _I will._ he decided, once again. On the morrow would he offer the imp his service.

"Here you are." Her voice was low. He had not heard her steps.

"Where's Swann?" Sandor asked. He noticed that he had not been jealous all night. _Gregor_ _is on my mind and he was never one to share._

"Drunk and angry and asleep", she admitted but waved her cousin aside with a wide gesture. "I know what you want to do." Her tone was anxious, heavy with concern.

"Aye, most people do." he shrugged. She was at his elbow now, facing the same direction.

"You will lose either way." Her voice was soft. "If you win, the Lannisters are your enemies, and the Tyrells. A dog needs a master, Sandor. And I- ." She did not finish the sentence. "If you lose…" The thought seemed to distress her, her voice broke. _Aye, just like today in the throne room_. "Either way, he will win. Is this what you want? Give it all up for him? Your time will come. You will kill him and be free of him. But not now. Please. Not if you cut your own flesh by cutting his." She dared to try and talk him out of it. And worse, he gave it a thought.

There had been times when he had not cared a fig where he lived or died. But now…

It was a hard choice to make. The man he had been, the man his brother had made him, against the man he had become with her. They were two parts of a whole and he could not say which one was stronger. She had the right of it, he knew. But did he care for what would happen afterwards? Once, before her, with Gregor's death all his plans had been fulfilled. He had seen wine in the future, but nothing more. _Now I see her._ He ground his teeth. It felt as if he only needed to reach out to wipe out what he hated most - but by doing so, he would wipe out what he loved most, too.

 _What is stronger? Hatred for him or ..._ He looked down at her face. _I cannot have both._ If he defeated Gregor, he would no longer be welcome at court. Selmy had lost his cloak and the queen would see to it that he would lose his. His cloak and her.

 _She should not have come._ It made it so much more bloody difficult with her right here, what he'd lose right in front of him. The duel in his chest lasted long and he saw the hope going from her face in the light of the stars and the few torches. _She shouldn't have come. She's here though, she's come because she wants to help me._ Sandor was not used to having help, he needed no bloody help...but it was concern for him that had brought her here, that made her forget the danger of conversations outside her rooms, that made her flee from her cousin most unladylike. _She really cares for me._ He was not sure whether he would ever fully grasp why she did but it made him feel different.

Slowly, he shook his head. "The imp's as good as dead then", he said in a hoarse wooden voice and watched the expression on her face change from fear to confusion to delight.

 _I will forever regret this. But I'd regret it more if I lost her._

She wrapped her arms around his neck and showered his face with a dozen kisses. Both sides. The darkness gave them cover and he hoped that sufficed.

Awkwardly, he freed himself from her embrace. After last night, he did not trust himself anymore.

"No reason for that." he said grumpily but as always, she understood what he never said and smiled, a sweet, happy, grateful smile. An honest smile.

"I have to go back." she whispered, her voice too quick and breathless. "Before he wakes up."

He only got her meaning when she was gone. _She made Swann drunk so that she could look for me._ She had wanted to dissuade him. And she had succeeded...for now. Killing Gregor was a plan he would not give up. Could not give up. It had been the thing that made him get up in the morning for years, the thought that he would end his brother's life. But her embraces were the sweetest thing he knew, better than Dornish wine, even sweeter than killing. He remembered her in the black gown at court, playing her role well. With tousled hair and mud on her gown after riding, laughing and japing. In her nightgown on the table, her face full of shock and embarrassment and something else. _So much sweeter._

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Please let me know what you think! I was not at all sure about this chapter, do you feel Sandor is OOC here? And what is there that I can improve? Thank you!


	35. Chapter 35

Hey! I am really thankful for all the reviews. (After I practically begged, I'm sorry)

Sorry, I'm tired so I'll keep this short for once^^

No, framing Margaery is not her plan. She wants to pit Cersei against the Tyrells, and vice versa, sow mistrust, plant the seeds for chaos. That kind of thing. :D

I am quite happy you think I managed to capture his character, these are tough times for him and I am not quite sure. I am really thankful that you think it was alright. Please let me know if I got something wrong, though or if you don't like something, really!

I guess the next chapter will be up tomorrow evening.

I'm sorry for mistakes, I did proofread but when I copy/ paste, whole phrases just vanish sometimes. I will check tomorrow.

As always, please review!

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 **King's Landing, The Third Day of The Trial, 300 AC**

 **Aliena**

Varys talked them through the third day. With his soft voice and precise notes he bored them all spitless, apart from the judges and Cersei, who sucked up every line of evidence like mother's milk.

That night, Aliena was invited for dinner with Oberyn Nymeros Martell and his paramour. _Lannisters, Tyrells, Martells. I can scarcely escape from all my friends._

She still wore mourning but she fastened a sun brooch to her bodice and took a shawl of crimson and burnt orange silk.

Tywin had been cautious to accomodate the Martells as far from the Tyrells as possible. Their chambers lay on the seaward side of the keep, behind the throne room, in a squat tower and the adjoining wings. The view over the river and the sea was breathtaking, especially now at sunset.

Ellaria kissed her on both cheeks to greet her while Oberyn kissed her hand gallantly.

They were only the three of them and a handful of servants, it was an intimate affair. _I have had a lot of intimate meals lately._

The first dish was served, a salad of Dornish peppers and tomatoes, red beans and sweetcorn in a red, thin sauce. The peppers were so spicy that she thought they might burn a hole through her tongue. Quickly, she reached for the elegant goblet of blown glass and took three swallows of wine. Only the last one she really tasted, though. _Sour Dornish._ The prince and his paramour looked at her with a hint of amusement.

"You will have to get used to Dornish food, my lady." The prince said. "Although, of course it might not be fitting for the future Lady of Highgarden to visit Sunspear so soon after her wedding." Oberyn laughed.

 _Is there anyone who has not heard this?_ Cersei had been delighted because it stopped all talk about her and Willas, and of course she knew Tywin would not let Aliena go. The rest of the court had taken the rumour for the truth and she could not count the wellwishers that had congratulated her on her fine betrothed.

"These are rumours, my prince, there is no truth in them." she clarified, wearily.

"Oh, I thought so. You have become a desirable bride, my lady." _Because Baratheon blood has become rare, I heard that before._

He shrugged. "I know Willas quite well."

"You were the one who crippled him, Lady Olenna said." This was perhaps too forward but politeness and manners would never help her with the Dornish and she wanted to know his version.

"The old crone still has some wits about her, I grant her that much, but she was not present. I struck his breastplate clean, but Willas' foot got caught in the stirrup, and his horse crippled him, if you will. It was his Lord Father's fault, of course, to make such a green boy participate in a tourney."

He smiled warmly now. "You might be surprised that I had a letter from Willas not a moon past. We share an interest in fine horseflesh." _The Red Viper and the Broken Rose. This is what songs are made of._

"Willas is nothing for you, my lady." The prince of Dorne continued. "Too calm for a stormlander. The Tyrells always wanted more than they can have. A king for the daughter _and_ a princess for the eldest son."

"My father was Clifford Swann who had a younger brother. I inherited next to nothing and I am depending on the generosity of my aunt. I am far away from being a princess, my prince." she replied but he only arched a thin eyebrow.

"Not as far as you might think. Much would be different if Dornish law applied here, my lady. Your mother was the eldest. She should have sitten that ugly chair by our law. And you would be her heir."

"Robert won his throne through conquest as much as through his blood relations." _And the Gods know, he found no happiness on the throne._

"And Robert's most senior relative is his elder sister's daughter, at least in Dorne." Oberyn pointed out. Ellaria followed their discussion with a faint smile. _At least she is enjoying herself._

"Stannis is not defeated yet. And he has a daughter, too. You should not forget him." Aliena said stubbornly. This new development at court did not please her at all. She had been left in peace before but now, for _Joffrey's_ wedding, the vultures had come and she was the piece of meat they wanted. _If I don't pay attention, I'll say the vows before long._

"Why, he was forgotten all his life." Oberyn shrugged. "A younger brother with a sickly, grey-scaled daughter. Stannis was never a man that inspired loyalty or love. There is ice in his veins and pride in is heart, and he'd rather chew his fingers off than reach out a hand to an enemy." He gave her a lazy smile. "I always found that Stannis belonged in the North, with his frozen blood and backbone of steel. And that is where he is now, fighting Bolton men, I heard. And you are here in the capital, Aliena Stormdaughter, the image of your mother, a Stormlander by blood, the great-granddaughter of Rhaelle Targaryen..."

"What you suggest is treason."

The Red Viper of Dorne flashed her a sly smile.

"Treason? Why? Is it treason to say that you are your mother's daughter? No, my lady, there was no treason in my words, but treason on your mind." He had played her. _I have to be more cautious or there'll be another trial shortly._

"Lord Varys will no doubt be pleased to hear that." Aliena warned but the prince seemed care no more for the birds in the walls than for the birds outside the window.

"The eunuch would scare me more if he wore a spiked cap, my lady", he laughed. _Then you are a fool._ "I shall announce, to you and the eunuch's spies, that I have decided to stand as champion for Lord Tyrion. He has quite convinced me of his innocence." _Ah, Sandor will love that. And Cersei..._ Tough days were lying ahead, even tougher should the viper win.

There was danger in the prince's smile, and poison. "You are too young to remember the siege of King's Landing."

"Indeed. But I heard that it was Ser Armory Lorch who killed Elia and her children." Aliena did not hesitate to tell the lie.

"Is your tongue in service to the Lannisters, too?" The prince was no longer smiling.

"You know who it was, my lady. The beast of House Lannister raped and killed my sister, he killed my nephew. Lorch murdered my niece and he has been eaten by a bear, it seems. Gregor Clegane's fate will not be so kind."

 _Yes,_ he _will definitely love that._ For a moment, she considered not telling _him_. But she could not lie to him and it had been her that had convinced him not to fight. Oberyn was eager. _He has already been to see Tyrion._ Yes, she would tell Sandor...and feared his reaction. Aliena took another sip of wine.

"It might have been him."

"And it was our Lord Hand who gave the command." The snake of Dorne wanted everything.

"Surely you do not think he commanded the rape of Elia Martell." Aliena replied.

"My lady, I do quite wonder whose side you are on." The prince gave back, unsmiling.

"On no one's side, my prince, is this a war?" she asked and the smile returned with an edge to it.

"I shall stay here for a while after I have killed the Mountain that Rides. But some of my bannermen will return to Dorne. My brother would be honoured to welcome King Robert's niece in Sunspear. You have never seen a place like the Watergardens either."

"And what would I do in the Watergardens?" Aliena asked. _Whom do you want to give my hand?_

But the Dornish prince surprised her.

"I did not have the impression that it was a wedding you want but no doubt a husband can be found. I have a nephew, fostered by Lord Yronwood. He is your age. Dutiful and reserved." _Why that sounds wonderful._ "There are several Dornish lords you could consider. I would offer myself, of course, if that is your desire."

Ellaria at his side laughed lightly. "We would have a lot of fun together, my lady."

She tried to hide the embarrassment but was sure that she had gone beet red.

"Marriage is indeed not my desire." she replied. "But which reason would I have to go to Dorne?" _What would be the pretence?_

"Princess Myrcella might have dire need of a lady companion. And who better than her own cousin, her dead brother's… _confidant_?"

She could have slapped him for it. But the notion was not so bad...perhaps she'd be allowed to take a guard. As long as the capital was in Tywin's hands, she was not safe from marriage contracts. _Hurry, Varys, or I might be tempted by the baked Dornish soil._

"I shall think on it." Aliena took another sip of the sour Dornish wine. She had to be careful, Dornish wine was strong and treacherous and took a while to get to her head, but when it did... She put the goblet down.

"You want to fight the Mountain?" she asked for more information she could pass on to _him_ later.

"I will _kill_ the man they call 'the Mountain', my lady….should the imp decide that he wants justice." _This is not about justice for Tyrion, this is about revenge for Elia._

"Have you seen him before?" Aliena asked. The Mountain had frightened even her, a year ago outside of the feast pavillion in the light of a few torches. She still remembered how he had suddenly stood in front of her, a giant with a brutal face and hands as big as spades. He had grey eyes, like his brother, she remembered noticing, but his were dull and lighter and held no feeling. She had been scared of him, out in the dark, did not know what to say. Sandor had saved her that night but she had been too angry and full of hurt pride to acknowledge it and thank him properly. He had offered to escort her back to the keep but she had taken Balon instead. _The irony of the past_.

Oberyn nodded. "He's a beast, my lady, I've heard. But if you think his size scares me, you're mistaken. Once a man is on his back, it doesn't matter anymore how big he is. There are many ways to kill a man and strength and weight can be a disadvantage." Indeed, the viper was slim and quick, like the reptile he took his name from. _But a viper will be crushed by a mountain, no matter how hard it tries. Granite is immune to poison._

Ellaria looked at her lover without worry.

 _You're in for a surprise._ It was one thing to imagine Gregor Clegane and another entirely to see the beast he was.

"The queen will not like it at all. Neither will her father." Aliena remarked and Oberyn laughed.

"Lady, you know as well as I do that the wellbeing of Lannisters is not my primary concern. I have not come to the capital to please Tywin Lannister."

 _No, you've come to see some heads rolling._

"You should finish your peppers, my lady. You will see, after a few bites they're not so hot anymore." Ellaria interrupted them with a warning look at her lover.

Aliena doubted that and she was proven right by the fire in her mouth, but she accepted Ellaria's change of topic gratefully. She was not sure what to make of Oberyn Martell and his thirst for revenge and she was aware that they were in a huge jar of green wildfire liquid and the Red Viper was the flintstone. _He will see this city go down in flames if he only gets what he has come for._

Aliena coughed and took another swallow of wine. _No._ This was bad. The peppers made her drink more and the wine made her talk more. And talk was bad, especially here around these people she could not trust at all.

"Water and lemon juice, please." She told a servant in red and orange livree with the sun and spear sewn over his heart.

Oberyn chuckled. "Do you find our wine not to your taste?" he asked.

"I find it too much to my taste, my prince." She smiled. The prince had dark eyes that looked black in the candlelight.

"There is no 'too much' of a good thing, this is how we hold it in Dorne."

Ellaria at his side smiled. "Wine, lovers, sun, food, leisure. We have a great appetite." She made a wide gesture. "They say the Dornish people are the happiest."

 _The Dornish might say that but I guess you'd get seven different replies from the seven kingdoms._ "I heard as much and I'm looking forward to Dorne a lot."

Polite distance was her strong point and her host took her comment for what it was.

"You won't choose a side, my lady." he observed. "That has served you well till now...but make sure that you won't be too late."

Aliena took the last fork of peppers, swallowed and ignored the fire in her throat.

"Do not fear for me, my prince. I'm tougher than I look."

Dawn was nearer than dusk when she left the Dornish prince and his paramour. She had called for a guard and it was Sandor who had come to escort her to her chambers. Her heart jumped a little when she saw his face, although he scowled and said "Hurry, girl. It's raining like a horse pissing on flat rock."

Aliena rose from her chair as gracefully as she managed but when she stood, she noticed that her head was spinning. _Be cursed seven times._ The Dornish wine had done what it always did.

She thanked Oberyn for the invitation and allowed Ellaria to kiss her cheeks again.

She liked the woman, proud, strong, honest and not a schemer. These two were pieces, not players, and she found it infinitely more relaxing.

"Keep a good hold of her, Hound." said Oberyn. "Our wine might have been too strong for her."

She felt Sandor's eyes on her and did not turn her head.

He took her arm and quickly, she followed him down the steps and out into the yard.

She stumbled twice on the stairs and he cursed her. "You want to break you pretty little neck, swan, is that it?"

Aliena felt the urge to giggle but she suppressed it and stayed silent as he lead her down the stairs, his fingers too tight around her arm.

"You're drunk." he said once they were outside. The rain fell heavily, as if the gods emptied their bathtubs. Aliena did not mind, she loved rain, the smell of it, the sound of it, the feeling of it on her skin.

"You are very perceptive." she mocked him but the words did not come out as clear as she wanted them to be and he laughed at her instead.

"What did they give you? A whole cup?"

His fingers were no longer closing around her arm tightly but she could feel his presence, his warmth on her skin. The rain had turned the hard soil to mud and the hem of her gown was as brown as her shoes. _I have made that a habit, soiling my mourning gowns._ The rain trickled down her forehead and she tilted her head back to feel the drops on her face.

"You'll drown." he said. "Come, swan, you're drenched to the bones. I won't have you die of a chill."

He took her by the shoulders lightly and she looked up at him, although his face was in the shadow.

"My mother died of a chill." she remembered. "But I'm not ill often. I didn't even get the smallpox as a child although Edric did and I played with him." Edric Storm had looked like his father and he had been a loud, boisterous boy. "I got his stick horse and wooden sword when he was ill, so I didn't miss him much." She laughed.

"A touching story." he remarked drily. "No come, or do I have to carry you?"

"That'd be a sight they'd love." Her being carried like a sack of flour. "Don't you dare." Somehow, her voice mingled with the thunder of the rain though and her threat was not very threatening at all.

"I'm scared shitless." He pushed her gently. "Walk now, girl. I can feel the water in my -" he stopped abruptly.

"Smallclothes." she finished the sentence for him, and giggled.

"Oh, seven hells, now move, or I'll leave you here to drown." he cursed and she took a few steps. The yard was beautiful tonight, the rain drank all the moonlight but a few sheltered torches burned and their flames were reflected by the puddles that had formed everywhere. She felt her right foot getting wet. The fine silk slippers proved no suitable footwear for a rainy day.

They walked on through the rain that fell like arrows. The water ran down her spine in cool drops. Aliena had always loved the rain, but she had always loved it most in the-

They passed by the intricate iron gate that was the entry to the Godswood. -woods.

She loved the sound of it, the rain splattering and pattering on the leafy canopy, the smell of wet earth and the secludedness. Aliena pushed the gate open.

 **Sandor**

She was well and truly drunk. He had not seen her drunk often, she was normally careful with her wine. But Dornish red was heavy and treacherous and she had been betrayed by it. She was sweet, mumbling and muttering to herself. The rain plattered down on them, and his arms and legs were wet and cold, his hair plastered to his head. Her hair was wet, too, black as midnight in the light of the few torches.

She still stood there, let the drops fall on her face with her eyes closed. _She is beautiful._ Her skin was pale against her dark dress and hair, her throat exposed and soft. _A swan's neck._ He wanted to kiss her there.

"Oh seven hells, now move, or I'll leave you here to drown." he said instead.

And she did. The walked past the Kitchen Keep, along the long wall of the throne room with its high, narrow windows, over the yard, past the tall sandstone wall that separated the godswood from the yard. She stopped in front of the gate, pushed it open and vanished in the darkness amongst the trees. "Seven hells", he cursed but followed her perhaps a little too readily. There were no eyes and ears in the Godswood...

His own eyes and ears were of little use there though, the trees drank the light and the platter of rain drowned out all other sounds. Then he saw her. She whirled around and he saw something light at the hem of her gown, the petticoat, perhaps, and a speck of brown, her shawl.

"I love rain." she said, not oblivious to his presence. She stood still now and looked at him, he saw the whites of her eyes glistening in the darkness.

"I noticed. You couldn't be wetter if I had dumped you in the Blackwater."

She took a step towards him, and then another one.

"I like it dry, though, swan."

She paid his words no more heed than the bugs under her feet.

"This is the last night." she said, and sadness clung to her words and it grabbed his bowels, too.

"Aye." He did not know what to say. Instead, he allowed her to pull him over to a tree, an oak with massive branches. It was dry under the leaves.

"I just want to stay a little while." she said, her tongue still wine-heavy.

"They'll wonder why I let you."

He saw the white of her teeth when she smiled. "They shall wonder, then." She leant against the trunk and stared at him. "I have become very important now that all other Baratheons are dead or almost so." She giggled. "You would obey when I command you to wait for me, no doubt."

He laughed. "I can carry you back to the castle like a sack of wet flour."

"I think not." Again, he saw a flash of white. "At least they'll think you do as you're told." They would, no doubt. "Everyone wants to marry me these days." The giggle was higher-pitched this time. "The vultures have come for the carrion, for what is left of House Baratheon." This time, she did not giggle and her tone was bitter.

"Just don't give them what they want and they'll leave." he said.

"Or perhaps the lions will get there first although Tywin is running out of male family members. In the end, I might find myself married to his brother." She giggled again. "Do you think Ser Kevan would make a good husband?" she asked. _No._ "Me neither." she continued without waiting for his reply.

"It makes no matter, my hand is not for sale." She laughed now. "Imagine that, selling a hand. Ser Jaime could. What do you think, did he keep his right one?"

"What good is a hand that can't hold a sword?" Sandor asked in reply.

"I can't hold a sword. Does that mean I'm good for nothing?" she mocked him. "Ah, don't reply. I'm in a good mood now."

"You're drunk, not in a good mood." _But you put me in a good mood._ It was true. He had been solemn this whole day, had wondered whether he had made the right decision. The trial had gone bad for the imp and when he was brought back to his cell in the traitor's tower, Sandor had been tempted to go and offer him his service as champion. He had emptied two flagons of cheap red wine in the barracks of the gold cloaks, trying to make a decision. It was uncommon for him to brood, he would normally decide and then follow that path, no matter what. But this time, it was not easy. He had been called to fetch her back then, and he had passed by the squat round tower that held the imp's comfortable cell, had seen the light in the barred window on the top floor...and had walked past the open door. And here he stood with her, in the rain and cold and dark and still felt as if it was the right place to be.

She rested her head against the bark. "Aye. I should drink more often."

She reached up, wiped rain from his burned skin with cold fingers, traced the line of his ear stump, followed the line where the bumpy burns faded into smooth skin again. Her fingers stopped at the collar of his tunic, at his breastplate.

He did not need to be a spider to know what she was thinking. He did not even need to see her eyes to tell him he was right. She remembered the night before the last. Without thinking about it, he moved his hands to her waist and neck. The fabric of her dress was wet and cold. _She should really go back inside,_ he thought but she had tilted back her head and looked at him. He could feel the expectancy and anxiety. Last time she had kissed him he had pushed her away.

 _I should carry her back to the castle, see that she is warmed up and then go back to the barracks and drown my thoughts in wine._ Instead, he kissed her. Her lips were ice cold, her face was wet with rain and between them was the icy steel of his breastplate but it was still the best thing that had happened in the last two days. It was a chaste kiss, he did not allow himself to part his lips, did not allow his hands to wander, but he could feel his heartbeat quicken, and thought it thumped so loud that she might hear it despite the heavy rain. She wrapped her arms around his neck. _If someone finds us like this, I'll be fighting that duel, but not for the imp._ He broke the kiss, took her hands, gently, he hoped, and disentangled himself from her embrace. He did not let go of her cold fingers though.

"You need to go back, swan." he said, and she did not object.

In silence, they crossed the outer yard, the middle bailey, took the serpentine stairs down to the lower bailey, left the royal gardens to their left. It was Trant who guarded the drawbridge tonight.

"Where have you been?" The knight asked him.

"That's none of your bloody business." Sandor snarled and set foot on the drawbridge but Aliena stayed behind.

"I prayed in the wood. I hope the Gods will give the imp wisdom and show him the right path."

"The right path for the imp is the headman' s axe." Ser Meryn said. Aliena looked at him curiously. Her eyes were cool, Sandor noticed, no phantoms clouded them.

"May the Gods judge us all justly." she said piously. "I bid you a good night, Ser Meryn."

The smile she gave him would have made any stableboy weak in the knees. It sufficed to make Trant turn around to follow her with his eyes.

They took the stairs to her chambers in silence but he noticed that she did not stagger anymore.

She locked the door behind them.

"You've sobered." Sandor observed, with a hint of disappointment.

"The rain, the cold...the fool." she smiled. "I half hope that Stannis will be upon us again, just to rid us of him." _She dislikes Trant as well._

"Better don't. Stannis would stand in your chamber quicker than you can make up your soothing words."

That made her smile. "You underestimate me, I fear."

She poured two cups of wine, mixed hers with water.

"Have you not had enough?" he asked after he had finished his.

"I drink this for the taste, not the effect." she said and took another sip. "My head is no longer spinning though, but I'm-"

"-tired." he grinned. "I had wine before, you know. Real wine, not what you drink normally."

She looked tired as well. Her hair was still wet.

"You should call your servant." Sandor nodded towards the cold hearth.

"It's the middle of the night." Aliena shook her head. "No, I can do it myself. I just need to get out of this dress and you should change as well, you know."

She opened the laces of her gown with quick fingers.

"Don't worry, I'm sure Tyrion and his army of dwarves won't ravish me in the short time you're gone."

But he was not cold, and the plate had kept him mostly dry. He unfastened his cloak.

"I didn't mean you should undress right here, you know." she japed, blushed, and got up to change for the night in her dressing room. Sandor hesitated, than he piled dry wood in the hearth and sent a few sparks down on the tinder with flintstones from a small basket. The fire burned dimly but it was enough for him, and he quickly brought a few steps between the crackling flames and his face.

She came back into her now warm chamber, looked at the flames with surprise and then pretended she did not find it extraordinary at all, but the way she looked at him gave her feelings away.

Suddenly, her expression changed, a shadow moved over her face and she scowled.

"Oberyn will be Tyrion's champion if he chooses trial by battle." she said, softly, and her eyes searched for anger, disappointment, rage. She found all three, he was certain.

"The viper of Dorne...He wants revenge for his sister." Sandor growled. "But he is too eager, too desperate for revenge. Gregor will crush him like a mountain crushes a snake." _And I shall watch and wish it had been me against my brother, not him._ Regret flowed through him like acid. _I should not have listened to her._

"The Dornish prince is quick and sly, I grant him that." he continued. "But it needs more. Gregor has a warrior's instincts and he is not as dumb as he looks." _I would know._

"Oberyn is very fond of poison." she remarked in a shy voice. _Oberyn_. It should not vex him that she used his first name, but it did.

"Gregor's fully armoured. The Dornishman will be hard pressed to find the weak spots and he won't be able to reach them with his sword." Gregor fought with a greatsword of abnormally wide reach and the Red Viper stood no chance. _If he uses a sword,_ a nagging voice said. _Their weapon of choice is a bow and a spear._ A spear would do reachwise, but it stood no chance against Gregor's greatsword.

"He was pretty self-confident." She still spoke carefully, slowly.

"I'm not going to eat you alive, girl." he said, wishing she would smile and mock him. Her concern gave the matter more gravity.

"His arrogance will be his death. Dornishmen are quick, cocksure and impulsive and their prince is no exception."

He had seen the man at the wedding, he had moved as smooth as summersilk, with grace and nonchalance. He was quick on his feet and would try to tire Gregor out. But his brother was not foolish enough to be caught off guard by that, many shorter men had tried to beat him, and so far, none of them had harmed him. No, Oberyn Martell would not get his revenge… but he himself wouldn't either. He had not taken the opportunity.

She said nothing to that but pulled her chair next to his, right next to the window. She looked out for a while, whether at the black sea or the starless, cloudy sky, he could not say.

"What will you do after you killed him?" she turned her head to him. "Or is that all you want?"

It was a question he had no reply for. At least no reply he wanted to tell her.

"Fight. Drink. Sleep. Live." He shrugged and she smiled but he thought he glimpsed a hint of disappointment.

"What about you?" he asked when he realised that she would not reply.

"Live." she said, with a grin. "And rule the Stormlands from Storm's End. Serve a just ruler. See the realm restored to peace and prosperity. Die old and happy. That kind of thing."

She had dreams and plans and he suddenly felt out of place with her. He did not doubt that she'd get what she wanted. At least the castle and the stormlands. And she would sit the Lord's chair of an imposing keep while he would drink himself into oblivion in some wineskin after Gregor's death. _I could enter her service._ But he knew he couldn't. She had not spoken of a husband but she would have one, no doubt, and he couldn't watch her laughing with some pampered lordling. _I shouldn't have listened._ He had been a fool and blind as well as stupid, to see her in his future. This was their last night together and after that, she'd smile at him politely and he'd go back to fucking whores who refused to look at him. It made him angry and he was about to push back his chair and get up when she said, very softly:

"Mayhaps you might want more at some point."

Somehow, he could not hold back a smile. "Mayhaps."

She leant against his shoulder, brushed over his hand with now warm fingers. Not long after, her deep, regular breath told him that she had fallen asleep. Gently, he lifted her up and carried her over to the big, soft, canopied bed. The sun rose in the east and the first rays of sunshine filled the room with light the colour of fire. Today, they would present the last witness. And then, presumably tomorrow, the Red Viper of Dorne would fight _his_ fight.

 **~o~**

The imp looked at the crowd, his eyes full of hatred. Then he turned to his lord father.

"I am innocent, but I will get no justice here. You leave me no choice but to appeal to the gods. I demand trial by battle." This would have been _his_ chance. And now he saw the Red Viper take it. Bitterness filled him, a rage and self-loathing. He looked up at the gallery where she stood with the young almost-queen. She was beautiful but pale and the black did nothing for her. She looked better in colours, not as elegant perhaps, but livelier, merrier.

Everyone's eyes were on the dwarf, everyone's but hers. She looked at him. Their eyes locked.

 **~o~**

Sandor stood with his sworn brothers to watch his brother kill the Dornishman. He heard them place their bets but a look in his face told them that he wasn't in for a wager today.

Gregor came with the Queen, towering over everyone present. His helmet concealed his ugly face, and he wore thick armour. Someone had painted his shield in the colours of the Faith and Sandor gave a bark of laughter. Gregor did not believe in Gods, he fancied himself one. Sandor saw his brother look over the courtiers present. Saw him look at Aliena. Saw him stare. He had liked the look of her a year ago and most men would have forgotten. But Gregor was no ordinary man and he was used to getting what he want. He'd chase her down, no doubt, if she was only some lady. But even he was not dumb enough to go for a girl so well protected by the Queen. Gregor's gaze moved on. Met his. Sandor thought he heard his brother laugh but the crowd was too noisy. Sandor stared back at him until his brother turned around, decidedly indifferent.

The prince of Dorne stood there is his light armour, with a half helm and a spear, eager for the fight to begin.

The septon said his vows, the Hand spoke his and the trial by combat began.

Sandor had to admit that the Dornishman's strategy worked out well and with every blow he escaped from, Sandor's mood darkened. Gregor fought with stoic calmth at first, grunted and growling, but silent. The prince of Dorne was the opposite.

"My sister, Elia of Dorne. You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children." he repeated, as if it was some sort of prayer. After a while, Sandor noticed that it unnerved his brother. _No, you fool. That's what he wants._ Absurdly, he hoped that his brother would survive this. He saw the prince dance around his brother like a pretty maiden, saw his spear leash out time and again, saw Gregor getting soppier, lazier, slower. _No. Watch him. Don't get tired._ If he did, it would be easy for the slim man to dart over and slide the tip of his spear between the sheets of plate.

Sandor roared with fury when the Dornishman landed his first cut. The spear went in under Gregor's arm. His brother gave a choked grunt as the prince twisted his spear and then yanked it free. _You bloody buggering fool. Keep your arms down._ Red blood coloured the boiled leather under his arm, streamed down his brother's side like a crimson waterfall.

"I will hear you say it. Elia of Dorne." The Dornish prince was full of arrogance. _He will take it too far._

Gregor turned around but he was too slow and Sandor almost called out to him to watch his back. But the Viper's spear went through his knee and the Mountain fell to the ground with a loud thump. _He is dying._ Fury coiled in Sandor's stomach, and it boiled his blood and blurred his vision. _Get up and live, you bloody bastard of a fool. Get up and live so that I can kill you._

Gregor pushed himself onto one elbow but it was too late. Through a red veil, Sandor saw the Viper run, saw him drive the spear through Gregor's stomach with his whole body, saw him fly for a moment. The man screamed, but Sandor never heard him. His own heartbeat was too loud in his ears. _He is dead. And I have_ watched _. I have stood here and watched._ All because of _her_.

Sandor saw the Dornishman put a foot on his brother's chest, saw him fall, saw Gregor crush the head that was barely protected by the helmet. He heard screams, quite a few, but it all meant nothing. Not even his brother could take a spear through the belly without dying. He had seen too many wounds like this. His knee was broken, the spear had severed the joint. The wound under his arm was perhaps nothing, but it did not matter. Sandor's future lay in front of him, dying, a Dornish spear jutting from him, pinning him to the ground.

 **~o~**

 **Aliena**

Gregor Clegane was a long time dying. His screams rang through the Red Keep like the wolfs' howls had rung through Winterfell.

 _He_ had turned around just moments after the trial was decided, when Aliena had still tried to console the shocked Dornishwoman. She had not seen him since, although she tried to. He had not come although she had finally been brave enough to send for him.

It was his duty to guard the drawbridge tonight though, so she came back late from her walk. He wore his helmet but she sensed his anger as she came closer.

"Can you take it off?" she asked, shily, feeling estranged from him although it had only been two days since she had kissed him last. He did but when she saw his face, she wished he hadn't. She had seen him angry before, but this was different. Rage mingled with pain on his sharp features, made his burns look worse, gave him a feral, unhuman look. _As if someone had carved a face for the Stranger._ He looked a beast now.

"Good evening." she said, just to say something, but she felt so silly. She had wanted to talk to _him_ , but there was little left of the man she had grown so fond of in these features. Aliena had never been more desperate, never been more insecure.

His mouth grew hard. "What do you want?" His voice was a low, deep rasp, cold as steel and as sharp as a blade, but worst was the anger in it that made her tremble.

"It is my fault." she said, desperate for forgiveness but he replied nothing.

The tears burned in her eyes but she did not let them fall. She had tried to save him but it had been selfish. He could not find happiness without killing his brother and somehow, queerly, she could understand. And now, she had robbed him of it, his one prospect of happiness.

"He is dying." she said. "I didn't think-" she tried to put her hand on his arm but he flinched away and she let her hand sink. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked, desperate for him to say something, anything.

 **~o~**

 **Sandor**

There was rage in him, so much, it filled him from fingertip to fingertip, a burning heat that he wanted to get rid of but nothing could quench these flames. His brother was dying by another hand. _I should have never let her come so close to me._ If not for her, it would have been him who had dealt his brother the final blow.

"Leave me." he said, forcing the words out between clenched teeth. "You have done enough."

He had expected her to be angry, perhaps to reach out and slap him. But she stumbled backwards as if he had pushed her away physically, her eyes full of pain. _She looks like a wounded animal._ But he felt no pity.

"I never-" she started but then she cast her eyes down and turned around, walked away from him and left him alone with his rage. He punched the wall that lined the dry moat here and the skin over his knuckles was torn and bleeding, but it was the rage inside that tortured him. _He'll die by poison, by a coward's hand. Not by mine._ He would never get what he wanted. And as much as he tried to blame her, he couldn't. He himself had refused, been a romantic, naive fool, worse than the little bird. That would stop now. He could not forgive himself, and he could not forgive her, either. _She has made a man out of the Hound, but only the Hound can beat my brother._ He was weaker with her, something he had liked before. But no longer. Gregor was dying, there were no doubts, and he did no longer know what to live for. _She cannot give me what I need._ No one could anymore. He had stood and watched, that was the worst thing. Had stood and watched another do the deed, as if he was incapable, as if he was a coward. He watched her dark silhouette disappear in the darkness of the serpentine stairs again and felt nothing but empty fury.

* * *

There's more drama ahead! I must say, fluff is really not my favourite thing to write (at least not much of it) so I'm quite happy. Please tell me what you think. :)


	36. Chapter 36

**Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou, Nyany4:** I thank you both so much for reviewing!

I fear a little bit of drama is ahead, this is ASoIaF after all^^ But I will try to include some fluffy moments!

* * *

 **King's Landing, 300AC, a few days later**

 **Aliena**

The imp was to die on the morrow. Cersei was overjoyed at the prospect but Aliena could not even pretend to find joy in something. Sandor had not spoken to her since. Had not even looked at her since. He evaded her and there was nothing she could do.

Varys visited her that evening, dressed in roughspun and a kitchen servant's apron.

"It seems you have lost your lapdog, my lady." he accused her softly. Aliena had known he would come but his words stung no less.

"For now." she said with an optimism she did not feel. "Let him get over his rage and he will come back to me. A dog needs a master. Or a mistress." That was wrong, though. He needed nothing but to kill his brother and Aliena had taken that from him.

Varys swayed his head. "How long might this take? You should not have discouraged him so, my lady." _I meant to save him, why is that so wrong?_

"Then I'd be one dog poorer." she said. "He would have either fallen to his brother, or he would have won and lost his cloak and position." _And I would have lost him, once and for all._ Now there was still the tiniest hint of hope, that treacherous thing.

"I hope you have not tied your fate only to the attentions of a dog?" Varys asked. _Oh, not my fate, my happiness._

"I have a swan to protect me." She admitted reluctantly. "But I'd rather take the dog."

"A swan who loves his honour well." Varys replied. "But you have a whole flowerbed of roses."

"I like roses well and their thorns are sharp and have their use. But their reach is small and their roots keep them firmly in one place. A dog can run with me and his teeth are sharp wherever we go."

Varys nodded gravely. "I hope that you will achieve what you want, sweet lady." and his words sounded like farewell.

"Is it time?" she asked, suddenly filled with sadness. She had known it would come to this.

"It is. Be strong, my lady. You will hear of it all on the morrow. Be surprised."

"I shall. Farewell." she said, but he was not done yet.

"Should you need help…" he started and she finished his sentence:  
"Your little birds will come to my aid. I understand."

"Forgive me, my lady, but you understand very little." A soft smile graced his plump lips. _Well, t_ _hank you._

"Nothing will happen to me. They want, they need my blood and my claim." _Just like you_.

The spider smiled as if he knew what she was thinking.

"A spider can make no promises and old habits die hard but I will _try_ to promise that no harm shall come to you and _try_ to keep that promise." That was not worth more than song.

"I am not scared." she assured him, suddenly tired.

"You are more important than you know, my lady." _Ah, sweet lies from a spider, how refreshing and just what I needed to hear._

"I will not marry your pretender." she said, instead, flatly.

Varys giggled like a maiden.

"I have always known that, my lady. I know you better than you think. And your importance does not lie in your hand. These times are trying but you have a duty here. Should you find that duty too dangerous and your dog far away, tell the good Lady Taena that you are longing to go home." _I knew_.

"She is your new spy. A finer spy than me." Somehow, it made her jealous. She had been good at that game for so long.

"Her loss will be more bearable. Lady Taena has many friends and she will see that you are brought to Pentos safely. Take a ship from the South, not from Gulltown. The Stormlands will protect you but the North and the Vale hold danger for you. Littlefinger would love your blood on his hands, or your hand in his. I am never sure." _Neither am I with you._ Her instincts told her never to ask Lady Taena, never to go to Pentos. Varys had been a regular visitor for near on eight years now, he had come first on her tenth nameday, but she still felt as if he was an utter stranger, and trusted him even less.

"I shall do as you say." she lied.

He giggled.

"The realm has need of you. Try not to die." He looked out of the window, the sky was turning to ash, the sun had set and only a narrow band of orange remained above the horizon.

"It is time for me to leave you, my lady." His tone was almost sad. _You will leave me all alone._ She would feel even worse without the spider around.

"My little birds will keep an eye on you." He touched her arm with a soft hand and then turned around. But Aliena stopped him.

"Will I see you again?" She asked and he smiled, something that looked almost genuine.

"No doubt. Sooner than we both think, I am certain. You have a way of surprising me sometimes, you know, my lady." _I hope so._

"You do all this because I am an important piece." Aliena was trying to make him say more, to give away a tiny detail of his plans.

But he only smiled at her, a sad little smile.

"Why else would I, Aliena?"

He left her alone with confusion and sadness. _I have lost Sandor first and now I lost him as well. The Martells are gone and all I have are the roses, whose thorny grasp can be as dangerous as a lion's claws._ She had never felt so alone in her life. She shook her head. _Self-pity won't help you now. You need new allies._ Cersei was all but powerless now but Aliena had a feeling that Lord Tywin's rule was ended. The Tyrells were her friends and Cersei remained her staunchest supporter. She would endure. She always had.

 **~o~**

She woke from the sound of bells after a long night's sleep. The sky was blue and the sun stood high. Aliena rang for Kenna. The Queen would have need of her.

It turned out that Tyrion had escaped from the black cells, found a secret passage to the chamber of the Hand it seemed, and he had found his father on the privy and greeted him with a crossbow. To be fair, this fine lord father had condemned him to die so Aliena was sympathetic and understanding. Cersei was not though, full of rage and irrational fear and it fell to Aliena to calm her down. _Varys is gone now, but never truly. And he saved Tyrion and killed Tywin._ She no longer had to fear marriage alliances. Just that now, whom did she even stay for?

 **A few days later**

 **Jaime Lannister**

Sandor Clegane was the only one in the White Chamber when Jaime climbed down the steep, narrow spiral staircase early the next morning. The sun peeked over the horizon and bathed the Red Keep in weak orange light but his sworn brother looked as if he had not gotten a wink of sleep yet. Jaime could hardly fault him, Ser Gregor's screams kept them all up at night but for Sandor, it must be pure torture. Not because of his brotherly love, but because of the fierce hatred these two shared for one another. It had been his only desire to end Gregor's life and now, it seemed as if someone else had done the deed for him. _He could have stood as Tyrion's champion. Why didn't he?_ Jaime had wondered about this a dozen times or more.

 _Brotherly love_. He mused. He had freed Tyrion and his brother had repaid the favour by murdering their father. _The father that sentenced him to die and made me lie about his wife, to be sure._ Perhaps Tyrion had had the balls he, Jaime, had lacked all his life. _He killed my son, too._ The thought came to him a moment later. Joffrey had never mattered much. _Tyrion killed him. At least he said so._ Jaime should be mad with rage but he wasn't.

The Hound was full of rage, though, now more than ever.

The burnt man looked up when Jaime entered and nodded curtly, then he fell back into brooding silence. Jaime had found him changed when he had come back. Twice he had caught him smiling for no apparent reason, although his face had taken its usual scowl again once he had noticed that the Lord Commander was watching him. _It must have been a woman._ Few things could make a man smile, and even fewer things the Hound. It was not glory or victory he longed for, nor was it a keep and grandchildren. Something had changed him, though, or someone ...but now that person was gone. Jaime found himself wondering what kind of woman it took to make the Hound smile. As far as he knew, Sandor did not even frequent the same whore more than once, as other men did. _Whoever she was, clearly she is no longer there._ If it was only Gregor's impending death, Sandor would be full of fury, he would be angry, ill-tempered, loud. But he was quiet in his rage, brooding, morose. Only in the yard, with his sword in hand, did he let it show. He had almost hacked off a squire's arm the other day, broken more limbs and noses over the past few days than Jaime cared to count. There was more to the Hound's sullenness than his brother's certain death, Jaime was convinced, but they were not on the level of intimacy that would allow him such questions and he knew for sure that Sandor would tell him to mind his own bloody business if he asked as Lord Commander. _And rightly so. His life is none of my business. Only his loyalty is, and there is no questioning that._ Sandor had fought even in the Battle on the Blackwater, amidst sprawling green flames. _His loyalty is so that I might even ask him to practise with me, under the cover of darkness._ The Hound was dutiful and close-mouthed by nature and he was not the kind of man whose tongue was loosened by wine. _I shall give it a thought._ Jaime shot him a quick scrutinising glance. Sandor was taller than him almost by a head and far broader, too. In his olden days, Jaime had been quicker, though, his blows more precise, albeit less forceful. Now, though... _I have better chances fighting him with my fist and feet than with a sword in my left._ Still, it might give him a chance to see what he _could_ do, to improve...only that no one could ever know.

Sandor got up and left him to the silence and first golden rays of sunlight with only a few mumbled words. He was off to guard the king that was scared of him.

His eyes were dark grey and shadowed, his face grim and sullen and the scars looked even worse in the bright morning light as he grabbed his helmet and sword belt. _He looks worse than he did when he had to stay up all night to guard that Swann girl Cersei is so protective of._ Indeed, he had not looked weary those days at all, had not appeared tired. _Something changed, and it is not only his monster of a brother._ Jaime thought of Cersei, with her fine golden curls, her bright green eyes, the smooth skin that had begun to soften since the last time he had had her. ' _She's been fucking Lancel and Osmund Kettleback and Moon Boy for all I know.'_ _Women._ If it was indeed a woman that made Sandor so sullen and brooding, he had Jaime's heartfelt sympathy. Women were a strange breed, and especially his sister was as much torture as she was joy. Suddenly, Jaime found himself thinking of a freckled, broad, homely face with huge blue eyes. Angrily, he shook his head. _She's not even a proper woman._ But now that he had thought about her, he could not unthink it and the wench stayed at the back of his mind until Ser Balon walked in and bid him a good morrow.

"My lord." The younger man swallowed. "Do I have your leave to escort my cousin today? She wishes to take a walk in the city." _The Others take your cousin_ , Jaime almost said. He did not exactly dislike the girl that took so much of Cersei's attention and affection but he always felt strangely uncomfortable around her. By now it was not a well guarded secret though that she was, after Stannis, Robert's closest living relative and thereby his heir should Stannis and his grey-scaled daughter die, which seemed likely. Women were not fought with swords though, their hands and cunts were sold and that was what his father had wanted to do as well. Her royal blood for the Lannisters. Jamie knew that he had wanted to marry her to Tommen before Joff's death and later, he had planned to keep her at court, unmarried until she was of use to House Lannister. Cersei planned to keep her close, though whether for the same reasons, Jaime could not say. He and his sister had somehow grown apart during his time in the Riverlands and he found himself longing for the past far more than for his sister. _I had two hands then, and one lover._ Now, it seemed, he had left one of each behind.

"As you will." Jaime said. "We cannot have Lady Aliena run around alone in the city, can we?" Jaime asked. "Where does she want to go?"

Balon swallowed. "To Flea Bottom, my lord. And then to the sept." _As pious as a septa, as pretty as the Maiden._ She was not what Jaime liked but many others fell for her sweetness, the man in front of him included.

"Tell her that praying won't bring him back." Jaime told Balon and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. _No._ His stump.

He had always wondered about the girl's feelings for Joff. The boy had been cruel to her, and he did not believe her tears for a moment. _I have lied to you a thousand times._ Why had he never seen it before? In this damned city, he was surrounded by liars, and his sister was the worst of them. It stung, worse than his phantom hand did hurt. How proudly Cersei had told him that he had fallen for her lies so often. How much he had longed for her warmth only to find her distant and cold. _That must be said of the wench, she's too stupid and too stubborn to lie._ Jaime took his sword belt, not that it was of much use to him now, and walked down the short flight of stairs to the ground level. Cersei would be up now, he hoped, or else he'd wake her. He needed something only she could give him.

 **The Day of the Wedding of Tommen I and Margaery**

 **Aliena**

Kenna looked at her with worry in her eyes. "Are you alright, my lady? You look...sad."  
Sad. _Yeah, that's exactly what I need to hear._ Cersei had seen it, too, but she had thought it was because of Tywin's death and Tyrion's escape. Varys had seen it, too. Then surely, _he_ saw it as well. He just didn't care anymore.  
"The past few days were quite tough and strenuous." She forced herself to smile. "I'll be fine."  
Her handmaiden didn't say anything but her face spoke volumes of her doubts.  
She helped Aliena into her dress. As she smoothed down the skirt, Kenna asked, shily:  
"Does it have something to do with the Hound?"  
Aliena swallowed. There were things even Kenna was not allowed to know.  
"No, sweetling, why would it? He is the king's guard, not mine." That was the truth.  
"I just...he spent so much time with you. And..." She hesitated. "He used to look at  
you in a certain way and he doesn't no more."  
Again, it was proven that words could cut deeper than swords. Kenna couldn't have hurt her more if she had twisted a knife in her belly. _He does not look at me anymore at all._ She had told Varys that time would heal his wounds, that time would gentle his rage, but her hope was fading. Ser Gregor had been brought to the black cells and Aliena knew that Qyburn experimented on him...but she had little hope that the chainless maester could bring the dead back to life. _He will hate me forever, and rightly so._ But it hurt...  
Kenna was still looking at her and Aliena caught herself before the tears came.  
"One foot at sea and one ashore, to one thing constant never." Aliena smiled. "Men  
often look at me in a certain way and then forget my existence mere weeks later. I don't  
take it to heart, Kenna." _No, my heart is currently so bruised and bloody that I wish it didn't  
exist._

Her maid shook her head. "You are unhappy, my lady, and I wish I could help you."

"Much has gone wrong, there have been so many deaths...Gods, I fear I will never get out of my mourning gowns."

Now that Lord Tywin is about to return home, you do not have to wear it for much longer, my lady."

It was true. The last service for Lord Tywin had been a grotesque ceremony, the corspe had stunk, the king had retched up his breakfast and lost his crown. Literally.

But now, it would all go back to normal. Cersei would rule and spread chaos, fear and unrest. She had already chosen Harry Swift, her uncle's good-father, as Hand, a man without talents but of utter devotion to his Queen. _A puppet who will speak the words she tells him to speak._ Apart from him, she had made a bastard Lord Admiral, as the former Master of Ships was called now, and Aurane Waters might look as handsome as Rhaegar once had but he was far from being as noble and upright as the dead Prince of Dragonstone. The rest of the small council was similar to Harry Swift, men with little talent or opinion. The only exception was the old Pycelle and Cersei's master of whisperers, Qyburn. Aliena did not trust the man in his soiled robes, but she could not deny that he had some wits about him.

"You look beautiful, my lady. Although black for a wedding…" She wrinkled her nose.

"The Queen will wear black, and so shall I."

Her black velvet mourning gown was embroidered with stags and roses in thread of gold and had sleeves of golden lamé, though, and she wore a necklace Willas Tyrell had sent her from Highgarden. Supposedly. It was beautiful though, so she did not question it's giver. It was a necklace of twining golden roses, the delicate leaves set with emeralds. It was a necklace that needed space, so she had settled on a low cut dress.

Kenna admired the piece.

"Perhaps you should go to Highgarden, my lady." she suggested. Aliena's mouth grew thin.

"I will not marry. Do you know what you are suggesting?"

"Your mother would not have wanted you to sacrifice everything for a castle, my lady." Kenna said softly but Aliena was angry anyway.

"I do not know what my mother would have wanted. She is dead. But I am not, and it is not only the castle I want." Aliena was not angry with the woman, no, it was only herself she had to be angry with and that was truly hard. It was unfair of her to serve her maidservant the dish she had to eat herself.

Kenna brushed out her hair softly and said nothing about Highgarden anymore but Aliena apologised for her harshness and got a smile in reply.

The second royal wedding in the first moon of 300AC was a sorry affair compared to the splendid feast Joffrey's wedding had been. The young queen wore the same gown she had worn for her first wedding. Cersei was pale in her mourning but the Tyrells wore green and gold and yellow, some of them with a hint of black lace or taffeta, for decency's sake. Six knights of the Kingsguard were in attendance, though, and the aging Ser Boros, who was now Tommen's food tester. Ser Jaime, with his stump, Ser Loras, Ser Balon who had accompanied her so often over the last days, Ser Osmund, all wide smiles and grins, Ser Meryn with a bored expression on his uncomely face, and _him_. Trant looked bored but he looked _angry_. He did not follow the ceremony and his eyes never once left a spot on the opposite wall, no matter how openly she stared at him. Aliena half expected the wall to break under his gaze, so forceful was his stare, so angry were his eyes, so grim the line of his mouth.

Margaery knelt in front of her short, plump husband to receive his kiss. If anything, widowhood had made her only more beautiful, and Ser Osmund seemed to think the same, judging by the look he gave the blushing bride.

The king and his bride led the procession to the Small Hall where the reception took place. This feast had been organised by Lady Alerie and it bore the Tyrell signature. The decorations were tasteful and elegant but not as overpowering as they had been in the Throne Room. There were seven courses to be served and only one singer and two fools. Moon Boy and Butterbumps entertained them before the first course, a white, creamy soup of mushrooms. The seating order was not strictly divided as it had been for the first wedding and Aliena found that she had been seated next to the old queen, a place of high honour and peace and quiet. She was not sure whether she could bear Olenna's japes and pointed remarks before a few spoons of soup and a cup of wine. She would have to talk to the Tyrells later though, Cersei would want her to. The queen was as absent as she was, rejected her brother rudely and drank more than she should. Apart from a few remarks about the bride's unseemly happiness, she remained silent. Aliena did not point out that there was no one who mourned for Joffrey apart from them. Indeed, no one else wore black but Ser Kevan who was brooding and sullen on Aliena's other side and barely managed to reply courteously when she spoke to him. After the main course, Aliena walked over to the other side of the high table with Cersei's permission and left an empty seat between the old queen and her uncle.  
"Aliena, sweetling, come here." By chance, there was an empty seat between Lady Olenna and Ser Garlan who was talking to his wife, a pretty, dainty lady with blonde straight hair and bright, light blue eyes.

"You look better now." The Queen of Thorns said. "You looked dreadfully pale over the last days but you are almost your pretty old self now."

"How kind of you to say so." Aliena remarked drily.

"The sun in the South will become you, I am sure. I will leave on the morrow but for you that is too early, I heard. The Queen Dowager has need of you, Ser Kevan said, but you shall come to Highgarden before the first snow falls." _Before the end of the year._

"Ser Kevan said so?" Aliena smiled. "Why, he must know when I can leave, where I can go."

Aliena was sick of men deciding her fate.

Olenna countered her sharp remark with a smile. "You do have the temper of a stormlander although they trained you well here. I must say I part gladly from this place but I shall be looking forward to your arrival."

Her hand was soft and freckled with age spots.

"It is kind of you to say so." There was no way Aliena would go to Highgarden but everyone believed she would. Everyone but Cersei.

Olenna was about to say something when behind Aliena, Tommen started to cough. Aliena wheeled around in her seat with shock but the boy had stopped coughing already.  
"Only a little wine that went down the wrong way." Margaery assured Cersei who had pushed a serving girl aside to reach her son. Shock, anger, pain were plain on the older queen's face as she turned around and fled into a narrow passageway behind Ser Meryn, but Aliena had seen the tears as much as Margaery and Olenna.

"I did not want to scare her." Tommen said and Margaery reassured him in a soft sweet voice. Aliena saw the Myrish woman, one of Margaery's ladies and Varys' spy, go after Cersei. She herself knew better than to follow the queen in her tears. Cersei did like to be alone with weakness. Casually, Aliena rose from her chair with a promise to come back later and walked back to her seat. She would be glad when Olenna was gone. Margaery had a little of her grandmother in her but was far sweeter and not so forceful. _Willas is the best option I have._

Indeed, going East all by herself was no longer an appealing plan since Sandor would not accompany her and there was no one else with whom she could or wanted to make the long, dangerous journey. _Balon would accompany me but I would surely regret taking him with me._ As much as she liked him for his honesty and loyalty, Balon would never make her love him and that would be his price. He would not ask for it but she would have to pay it all the same. _I could wait in Highgarden and pass my time. I do not have to marry him right away._ But she knew that once she left Cersei's reach, she would be utterly at the mercy of the roses and they proved no more merciful than the queen. _No, as soon as I am there, I will be wed._ They would not risk losing her. It was maddening. The Dornish would have been her second best option but Oberyn's reckless fight had ruined that as well. _My happiness and my security, both._ Sandor had not looked at her once and a tiny, nagging voice in her head kept wondering whether he was back to frequenting whores. It hurt her to even think about it so she let her thoughts wander back to her depressing situation. _It all looked so bright, and now there is nowhere I can turn._ She missed Varys, too, his knowing giggles and hidden meanings, his reassuring presence.

Cersei returned to the hall and took the seat next to Aliena.

"Lady Taena brought me very interesting news." she whispered into Aliena's ear. "Maid Margaery apparently pays my maid to spy on me." That did not surprise her much although she doubted it was the young queen herself who gave her the gold. The Tyrells were a close-knit family and father and grandmother wanted to keep their darling safe.

"An outrage." she whispered back. "But good of the Myrish Lady to tell you."

"Very good indeed. She is an ambitious one, mind my words. She will bring more before the moon turns."

Aliena did not doubt that. Clearly, Lady Taena had been given the same task. Sow mistrust.

The sweets and nuts and cheese were served and Aliena helped herself to a few raspberry tarts and a lemon cake. The cake reminded her of Sansa though and Sansa reminded her of _him_ , and the sweet freshness turned to bile in her mouth. Sansa was safe with Littlefinger, at least. He used her as he used everyone, but he would protect her. _Something that went well, after all._ She should not lose hope. There was a way out for her, too. She would not go down with Cersei, she would not marry. Varys knew that it was Queen Daenerys she wanted to seek out and he would help her. _Trust a eunuch and you can start digging your grave._ That was well-known. _Whereever I turn, I see no way out I like. He was the only one, and I ruined it._

After the sweets came the dance. Aliena did not feel much like dancing but then she remembered something.

It had been a dance that had made him so jealous that he had broken his silence to talk to her. Perhaps it would work this time, too. _If it doesn't, I need to give up._ It was a bitter thought but a true one. He did not want her anymore and there was no use in chasing after him. He would not like her more for it, that much was certain.

Aliena danced every dance, the first with Ser Garlan, but he was no good for he loved his wife deeply. She danced with Ser Tallard but found him lacking both grace and wits. The Bastard of Driftmark was different, older, perhaps two and twenty, with a narrow face and the silver gold hair of the Targaryens. Yes, they made a beautiful couple. He was as graceful as he was witty, although he was also respectless and Aliena could smell selfishness and ambition. Many bastards who had been in the second row all their lives longed for a place in the light, Aliena knew, and this one was one of those. He whirled her around until she was breathless and laughing, then he took her into his arms, pulled her closer than appropriated. She did not risk a sideway glance but hoped that he was looking.

She moved rfom the bastard of Driftmark's arms to Ser Osney's, allowed him to whirl her around like a peasant and ignored it when he stepped on her feet. He was utterly common, that much was plain, but tall and broad and dark haired…. _He looks as if I am looking for a bad substitute. Hells, he even has scars._ Three long ones down his cheek. Ser Osney had the irritating habit of staring at her neckline and breathing at her as he spoke. A cloud of sour wine breath hit her face everytime he made a jape and she found it hard to laugh. She was almost ready to take her seat again but Balon stepped in.

"You look beautiful, Aliena."

The times that he had escorted her down to the city had made them more familiar again, something she liked not much, for it was cruel to let him hope. She knew that much now. But she had to go. The city was overflowing with sparrows, lowborn peasants and brothers of the Faith and their numbers were growing. Cersei dismissed them as powerless rabble but Aliena knew well that it was also the smallfolk that decided where power resided. She met some of the sparrows, prayed with them, gave alms and bread, and ruined more and more dresses in the dirty streets around the Sept. She still went to Flea Bottom where things were going better now. No one had commented on the fact that it was now a different man that accompanied her.

"I thank you, Balon." she smiled as she danced with him. He was not a spirited dancer but he never stepped on her feet and his hands stayed where they were supposed to be. He was kind and entertaining but Aliena could not say that she was sorry when the dance was over. Balon was satisfactory, kind, honest, honourable. But there was nothing about him that made her heartbeat quicken. He took his place amongst his brothers again but she noticed that his eyes, at least, never left her. Sandor had still not looked at her once as far as she could tell. All she wanted was to lie on her soft cushions and feel sorry for herself but she could not afford the luxury of self-pity.

"M'lady", a voice said behind her, dark and low, and for the fracture of a moment, she thought the Gods had heard her silent prayers when she glimpsed dark hair and a tall figure. But it was only Osmund Kettleback. He stood shorter than Sandor and was less powerful but he had a sly, brazen gallantry Sandor lacked. _Of course,_ he _would never ask me to dance._ She had liked that about him too. _I liked too much about him. This is what happens if I allow myself to be distracted._ Cersei called love a sweet poison and Aliena knew that she was right. She had relished its sweetness but now it hurt more than anything.

"Ser Osmund?" She forced herself to be pleasant. _Liar, fraud, braggart._

"I need your help and advise. I have seen a lady dance with two of my brothers now, but never with me. I wonder, how can that be?"

She was just about to tell him that she was too tired for foolish games when she saw _his_ eyes dart over to them for the tiniest of moments. _I cannot go back to my seat now. He will think I stopped dancing because I caught him looking._

"Perhaps this lady has waited to be asked by you, good Ser, but has been too shy to ask herself. Perhaps she has danced with your brothers to make you notice her." she replied, keeping her eyes on Sandor behind Ser Osmund.

"Is this what women do?" he asked, perplexed. _You have no idea how far women go for the attention of the man they love._

Aliena cast her eyes down demurely, then looked up at him from under her lashes. "You surely do not want to force me to reveal the secrets of my sex?"

He laughed. "Oh, sweet lady, I am sure I do not want to know." _You wouldn't understand anyway._

He took her hand. His hands were hard and cold. Sandor's had always been warm.

"So this lady, she wanted me to notice her?" Osmund asked, his eyes for once fixed on hers.

"I do not know about _that_ lady. I can only speak for myself." Aliena replied.

"And what if I told her that I _have_ noticed her? That I have been thinking 'bout no other woman as much as about her?" Aliena withdrew her hand.

"Then I would tell you that the queen would not like that."

Osmund's eyes darted over to Cersei who drank a cup of hippocras and was engaged in a conversation with Aurane Waters. _Of course. He must look much like Rhaegar._

"You talk about a woman's secrets, I will share a male one with you: We have room for more than one woman in our heart, sweet lady." _Ah, now I am truly shocked._ Sandor did not seem to have room for one. _Or perhaps he does, but it is not you,_ a nasty voice whispered. Aliena tried to ignore it.

"So you tell me that this lady is just one of many?" Aliena turned half-away from him. Somehow, she enjoyed toying with him. _Gods forbid, have I turned into Cersei?_ She thought for a moment. _No, I do not intend to let him fuck me. Thank the Gods, I have not taken leave of my wits._

Ser Osmund had clearly not awaited this reaction.

"No, sweetest. This lady is the first amongst many, the crowning jewel of womanhood." No doubt he had heard that in some song, sung by a drunkard in a winesink. _I find it hard to keep my dinner down._

"This lady must be a happy woman then, Ser. Do not waste your time on me and ask her for a dance." Aliena said, in a snappy voice and Osmund took her hand again.

"My lady, will you give me this dance and make me a happy man?"

"Oh, Ser Osmund. You have played me like a fiddle." She could feel the red warm on her cheeks but it was embarrassment for how low she had sunken.

"I meant no harm, my lady. Will you dance with me?"

"With the greatest pleasure."

Not much good could be said of his dancing skills and she hoped for Tommen that his knight was better with his swordhand than with his feet. _He does dance better than his brother, but that is not much of a compliment._ Compliments, she heard many. Her eyes were as beautiful as the stars, her smile as sweet as a rose. She had skin as flawless as ivory and her hair was a waterfall of beauty. They were as vague and hazy as fog and Alilena did not doubt that a hundred serving wenches had heard the exact same ones before. _Sandor never told me that I was beautiful. He said I was pretty once. He liked me not for my looks but for who I am._ Tears crept up again and Aliena knew that this would not do. No one could stand up to him in her view so she should not compare.

She did her best to blush at Ser Osmund's nondescript compliments and laughed at his dull japes and ignored his wandering hands. _They should call this one squid._ His hands were everywhere. Aliena risked another look but Sandor's eyes were fixed on a spot on the whitewashed wall and did not dart over to her for a moment. _This is useless._ The song was not yet over when Aliena removed the man's hands from her skirt and bodice.

"I am very tired, Ser. You will forgive me." Ser Osmund followed her, asking questions but she took her seat at the Queen's side and he did not dare to pursue her in the presence of Cersei. He found a few empty compliments for Her Grace before he went back to his brothers. He, too, stared at her from time to time, just like Balon, but the grey eyes looked at everything but her. She went to bed feeling dirty and empty. _This was the last time._ she told herself, again. _The last time I have tried to get his attention._ Almost a fortnight had passed now and he had not even looked at her once, except for the tiny moment today. He was angry and he cared not a fig for her, that was plain. _I have to stop caring, too._

Kenna helped her out of her gown and into her nightgown. She did not wear the bedrobe anymore she had worn with him, the one whose belt she had loosened so often to tease him, whose sleeve she had allowed to slip down her shoulder from time to time. He had touched the collar, pushed it down her arms and she still shuddered pleasantly when she remembered ... _No!_ This was no good. It was over, it seemed, and she would have to focus on other things.


	37. Chapter 37

Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou , Nyany4 : I thank you both a lot for taking the time to review and for being so sweet and supportive! (Yes, I made a mistake, I corrected it, thanks a lot!)

Dear Guest: I thank you a lot for reviewing!

I really do not want to give too much away but I can say that the High Sparrow will play an important role...as you might see later^^

As for Varys, well, I like to keep him shady, but everyone has a place in the spider's web, and every piece has its powers and attributes.

This is not going to be an OC story where the OC is suddenly the key to the whole plot, there won't be a long lost prophecy which reveals that only Aliena can save the world from doom and everyone else is pretty much only decoration.

But she has an important part to play, as many others.

 **Tommen's and Margaery's wedding**

 **Sandor**

They had moved his brother to the dungeons under the keep and Sandor no longer had to suffer his screams. He found he missed them, though. They had shown him that Gregor was still alive, after all. Now, there was nothing where his brother once had been. But the rage did not leave, no matter how much he drank, no matter how many green squires he frightened half to death in the yard, no matter how many noses he broke, how hard his blows hit. It was his constant companion and he could not say that it made his life any better. He got up with a burning hole inside him, and went to bed with it. Rage mingled with regret and longing, with sorrow and remorse.

He wanted the past back but there was no going back from the path he had taken. He still felt her eyes on him, full of fear, and then of pain, before she had cast them down. She had looked tired as of late, with dark circles under her eyes than made them look even brighter. Sandor could not fault her. He never looked at her directly, it was too hard to see her. _It was my choice, and I have to live with it._ His brother was dead or dying. Everytime he felt himself getting softer, he remembered that and his soft feelings vanished like a puddle on a hot summer day. His feelings for her did not vanish, though, they stayed, like a burdock that stuck to his soul.

She looked better for the wedding, dressed in black and gold with patterns of roses and stags. Sandor had feared it would come to this. She wore a necklace of roses, _golden_ roses, and he had heard a servíng girl whispering about it. Apparently, it was a gift from HIghgarden. She would marry the cripple. _What did you think? That she would run after you like a rabbit?_ She was better off without him, that much was plain, and although it made him feel even worse, he hoped that she would find happiness and a home with the cripple. _She has a tender spot in her heart for broken things._ She had proven that much.

He felt her eyes on her but did not allow himself to look. It was no good. The fury inside him meant that it could never be as it once was, he had chosen her over Gregor and had paid for it. He could not go back, not with what had happened.

The wedding ceremony and feast were nowhere near as imposing as the other one had been and the duckling king was as meek as a lamb. Sandor stood guard with his sworn brothers, wishing he could trade them all for the life of the real brother he loathed so much. _I would give everything to bring him back, just so that I can kill him myself or die trying._ If it had happened elsewhere, if Gregor had died somewhere on a battlefield...but Sandor had stood and watched, had not taken the opportunity he had been given, and it was something he could not overcome.

The duckling coughed, and for a few heartbeats, the whole hall was in shock and fear. Then, the boy recovered. He had drunk too much too quickly. His wife sat by his side and whispered in the boy's ear while the old queen left the hall half in tears. It was as if it did not concern him at all. He saw _her_ wandering around from one queen to another, like a bee would wander from one flower to the next. _From me to the cripple. Who knows who were before me, who knows who'll come next._

She was so beautiful that it hurt. _I was so close to her, and now I am so far._ He almost laughed. What had he expected? _It was her. Because of her I did not fight Gregor. It is for the better._ But he found it increasingly hard to convince himself of that when the dancing began. She danced with the middle Tyrell, then with one of the little queen's knights, a tall, clumsy fellow, then with the dashing Bastard of Driftmark, a good-for-nothing if he was anything, with a sly smile and more ambition than loyalty. He looked good with her though, Sandor had to admit grudgingly, she dark haired and he fair. After him came a Kettleback, even worse, but he gave Sandor a moment of cold amusement. He had three long scars on his cheek. Sandor's sworn brother, Balon, who had fawned upon her since the combat, was next. He danced with her as if she was made of blown glass, and he was graceful and elegant on his feet, Sandor admitted. She smiled at him and laughed at his japes but she was not lost with him and her interest was divided. _He tries and tries, but she'll never be his._ There had been times when he had believed that somehow, she had - _This is no good._ He forbade himself to think about it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other Kettleback, the white cloaked one, talking to her. Instinctively, he turned his head - and she caught him staring. He looked back at the wall, but she had seen him, had looked him in the eye. He knew the exact colours of her eyes by now, the different shades of green and grey and blue, but he had to forget them. She now was in Kettleback's arms, the man they had made fun of together, a lifetime ago. _Who knows with who she made fun of me._ It shouldn't sting but it did. _Bugger her._ Sandor thought. _Bugger him and all the other fools. They're welcome to her. She has brought_ this _upon me._

He did not look at her again, only later, when the old Queen set her brother's and father's tower afire did he risk a glance. The flames danced in her eyes, she stood there alone, no man at her side for a change though Sandor saw the looks Swann and the blond bastard were giving her. _She doesn't want them, it's the cripple and his army she wants._ He remembered her talking about never wanting to marry, how that castle would be hers, and hers alone, how she would never share it with a grasping husband. _Her words were not more tangible than this smoke._ Soon it would be over and he would perhaps forget that she had existed. She'd be in Highgarden with her fine lordling, wearing green silk and golden roses, and never once wasting a thought on him. _I can hardly blame her._ Once again, he remembered her expression. It had been dark but he had seen pain as bright as daylight. _No._ Not this again. _Gregor is as good as dead._

 **~o~**

Sandor was on his way from the royal apartments, lost in thought. The corridors were deserted this late at night and torches bathed the stony halls in orange light. He was so lost in thought that he did not hear the footsteps, hasty, quick, soft. He did not notice when they stopped either. What he noticed was that someone stared at him. He looked up - and met her gaze. They had the whole hallway to themselves, fifty feet of grey stone covered in rushes. But they stood no further apart than twelve feet. She wore a nightgown and a bedrobe, he saw, though he did not know this one. He should walk past her, ignore her and be gone. But he couldn't. Their eyes locked, and he could not turn away. Dark waves fell past her waist, feather-soft, he knew, and he could see a hint of red creeping up her cheeks, that reminded him of past nights. He had to say something, but his head was empty. No more than he could think of something to say could he think of something to do. _Run, you fool._ The sterner voice said, but his feet did not fully obey. He took a step towards her. She took one backwards. _She is scared, or she hates me._ He realised with pain and shame. He wanted to say something, anything.

"Swan-" he started, not knowing how he would go on.

"Here you are." Meryn Trant's nasal voice sounded oddly full in the empty hallway. "The Lord Commander has need of you, dog." He saw Aliena. "Or are you in need of a guard, lady?" he asked her.

She shook his head after a moment of hesitation and Sandor turned around. His moment of weakness was gone. He could not forget what had happened. Sandor did not look back, the sight of her would have been enough to forget his decision.

 **~o~**

 **Aliena**

Gregor Clegane was dead, or so Cersei would have them believe. There was something oddly pleased about the way she had told everyone and Aliena did not fail to notice how close the chainless maester and the queen had become. He was now her Master of Whisperers and Cersei commented on Varys' inability more than once. _And now, you took his spy to bed with you._ Taena was the queen's new bosom friend and Qyburn her most trusted advisor.

Aliena, who had known the spider for so long, knew that Qyburn was served only the whispers Varys wanted him to hear. Maybe the new Master of Whisperers fancied himself a spider in his web, too, but it was Varys's web he was in, and he was prey, not predator. Perhaps he didn't care though. He spent most of his time in the dungeons and no man who was still in full command of his senses could stay down there without turning mad. Aliena wondered where Varys was. He could be at the far end of the world, in the East, or he spent his time in a winsink in Flea Bottom, the chances were about the same and no one would recognise him if he did not want to be recognised.

He was good at that. An invisible piece could be used to no one's advantage, he had told her once, perhaps six years ago, and when she had replied that he was a player, not a piece, he had only smiled at her. _Oh, but all players are pieces in someone else's game, sweetling. You can be the greatest player in the Seven Kingdoms and some other player will still use you for his own advancement._ She had kept that in mind. It was something Lord Baelish had never quite grasped, Varys had told her, but she would, in time.

Now, she was a player, and a piece, and seemingly the only one of her colour left on the board. Balon would leave early the next day for Dorne with Ser Gregor's abnormally large skull.

He came to bid her farewell when the sun was about to set. The days had become too cold for long walks through the gardens, so she received him in her solar.

It was not a teary affair, nor very emotional but Aliena felt empty afterwards.

"Farewell, cousin. Do not let the sand snakes poison you." she smiled. Oberyn's daughters were well known for their venomous fangs.

"I shall not come too close to them." he smiled. _No, you have sworn vows._ Balon was not happy with his task, neither with the official one nor with the one Cersei had given him in secret. The queen had used Aliena to make sure that Balon did as he was commanded. _Bring the princess home, and her little betrothed. On the way, you will be attacked by outlaws who scream the imp's name and you will catch sight of my wretched brother, though no one else will._ Cersei meant to murder a child, a boy of thirteen. Thankfully, Prince Doran was too wise to do as the queen asked and his son would live, or so Aliena hoped, not only for the boy but also for Balon's soul. He was the sort of man who would never get over murdering a child. _How many children has Sandor killed? And does he still think of them?_ She thought not.  
Balon kissed her hand. "My lady, I am looking forward to my return."

"Oh, so am I." she smiled. "Try to come back in one piece, I shall be very cross if you don't." She kissed him on both cheeks and he left her with two bright red spots on his face.

He was a man grown and restraint, not easily tempted by flesh and he bridled his carnal desires well, but when it came to feelings, all men were green boys. All men but _him_.

Aliena was alone now. In her solar, in the capital. But not for long. The Faith had chosen their new High Septon and on the morrow, she would go and _confess_. The sparrows outnumbered the gold cloaks by now and should they ever take up arms, as they reputedly had in the crime-ridden Riverlands, then Alilena would be grateful for the High Septon's friendship. She rang for her maidservant. It was a young girl, not older than her, of plump stature, with freckles on her face and arms and long, carrot curls. Aliena had sent Kenna away, home to her brother with gold. She was not sure how long she herself could stay in the capital and she would not let her former handmaiden suffer. Should she vanish unaccountably, they might even torture Kenna to find out about her whereabouts and it was safer for her in the Stormlands with her family, although she had been angry at her and reluctant to go. She had conceded in the end, and Aliena had seen her off. She was to help her sister in law through childbirth and that was such an ordinary, unappealing reason that no one asked further questions.

"Poppy, I would like to take a bath." Whoever had given the girl her name had had a sense of humour.

She nodded and scurried away to do as she was told. Aliena stretched in the bathwater like a cat and washed her hair, careful not to use too much scented oil.

"Which gown will you wear tomorrow?" The girl asked shily. She liked laying out the clothes for the next day, Aliena knew. Kenna had taken many of her old gowns with her, the ones that were the most extravangant or elegant. What remained were mourning gowns and demure sept dresses, only a few ball gowns.

"The dove grey linen dress with the veil." Simple, demure, modest.

The next morning was bright and clear, but cold and Aliena wore a dark linen cloak over her dress. No Kingsguard accompanied her to the sept, she hated the sight of their white cloaks by now because it always startled her for a heartbeat. Even after a moon's turn, she still hoped it was _him_ that had come to escort her, only to be disappointed every time. A few gold cloaks accompanied her but she left them at the bottom of the steps that lead up to the huge white double-winged door on which the seven pointed star had been painted in brilliant colours.

"I am looking for His High Holiness." she told the guards and they let her in. The great hall was dim, the floor soapy and wet and Aliena almost slipped.

"Careful." A man said and she felt hands close around her arm.

"Forgive me, I was clumsy." she smiled.

"That is nothing that needs forgiveness." The man let go of her arm. He could not look Aliena in the eye, was as thin as a broomhandle, and dressed in a white tunic that went to his ankles. His feet were black and calloused, with even darker toe nails. He had a kind smile but his eyes were hard and his face as lined as a weirwood tree's. _This is him._ Aliena knew right away. _He is not at all like the other ones. I have to lie well to deceive him._ Lying well was one of her most redeeming qualities. She remembered Sandor's scorn and mockery. _This is not the place._

"I have come to speak to His High Holiness." she said with a distant smile.

"Speak then, daughter of the seven. You find Us right in front of you."

Aliena feigned surprise for a moment. Then delight.

She took the man's dirty, gnarled hands and knelt in front of him as was appropriate. Aliena felt the soapy, dirty water cold on her knees and shins.

"Oh, I am so thankful. I have heard that you were different, but I never thought-" she looked up at him with feigned discomfort.

"The last High Septons were, forgive me, worldy men with very wordly concerns." she whispered.

The man looked at her scrutinisingly. "So I have heard. And seen. Fear not, child, we have chastised all the ungodly men that did not run from the truly devout. What have you come for?" he asked.

"I have come to confess. To confess what I need to confess for a long time, but the previous septons were all bought and paid for, they would have betrayed me and my confession-"

"And the Gods." The man finished. "You need not fear betrayal here as long as your heart is true to the Gods."

He beckoned her to follow him. Confessions were made in the Cell of the Father, a small room off the main sept, with dark veils and doors of carved wood. The confessor was alone with darkness and the Gods here, and the Septon, and he would go back into the light after he had confessed his sins.

The High Septon lit a candle on the small altar.

"What is it that you have to confess, daughter?"

Aliena knelt in front of him and offered him her hands. Every twitch, every tiny reaction he would notice now, that was the way of old.

"I have to confess that I am no longer a maiden." The words rang loud in the tiny room.

"That is a grievous sin." The man said. "How has it come to it? Women are wicked creatures, more fragile than men. Was your flesh weak or your spirit?"

"Both, I fear. It was the king, High Holiness, King Joffrey, may the Father judge him justly and welcome him into his High Hall. He always said he loved me, he always promised he would marry me. I found no sin in loving him chastely, for he was my cousin and I grew up with him. He wanted me to kiss him, and I did. A lady has to obey, and I thought he would marry me." The tears came, dropped on her hands cold and sticky with salt. _Good._

"Many women have failed so." The septon said, "Go on, child. The Gods are listening."

 _I wonder who else is listening._

"He wanted to bed me and said so again and again, but I refuse him. My maidenhead, HIgh Holiness, my purity. I loved him much but not enough to give that up what was holy to me. I confess that I tried to content him with kisses, and that I lied to him about my moon's blood to keep him from my bed." A sob. "But one night, he -he came to my r-room-" She stopped abruptly, and true tears rolled down her cheeks now.

The holy man squeezed her hands.  
"You have been brave to confess, girl, but the Gods want the full truth."

"He, he c-came...and I, I was in my night clothes, with my hair loose and my, my shoulders naked, and he c-came-" She sobbed again, could not say whether it was a true one or not.

"He said that he had, he had waited l-long enough, and that he was to-to marry someone else, some-someone prettier, but that he could still-still have me, because kings could have _whores_. I said I wouldn't, I begged him, but he had his guard drag me to his chambers...I screamed and shouted for help but the world was deaf to my cries. And his knight guarded the door while the king - while Joffrey-"

The High Septon squeezed her hands again.

"I know, girl." he said, not unkindly. "Why did you not tell the queen?" This was thin ice.

"I wanted to, but the king said I shouldn't, he said that he would have me again...he said that if I told anyone, he'd have my head. I loved him once, High Holiness, but I confess that afterwards I hated him. Oh, Gods, I confess that I was not as sad when he died as I should have. I prayed for him but not as I should have. Oh, High Holiness, how can I ever atone for my sins?"

The septon let go of her hands.

"Your sins are grievous, child." he said. "The king took your innocence, that might be so, but women often tempt men into carnal thoughts. Think, have you given him reason to desire you?" Ah, so it's the woman's fault when she is raped for she had tempted her rapist. _How wonderfully easy._

"I might have, High Holiness." she said in a low voice.

"It is not your fault alone, girl, and no weakness of the flesh or the spirit was involved, so you need not take the walk of atonement. But are guilty of other sins. You have been foolish and vain, and you did not follow the words of the Seven." _Why, where does it tell me how to deal with a cruel, malicious bastard that is your king? I must have overlooked that passage._

"You have confessed. Now, you shall pray. Pray to the Maiden for purity of the mind, to the Mother for mercy, to the Father for forgiveness. Ask the Warrior for Courage and the Smith to put your hand and feet to good work. Ask the Crone to give you wisdom."

"I shall, High Holiness." She kissed his dirty hands. _I kissed worse, I kissed Joffrey._

"You can atone for your sins by relieving others of theirs. Tell me, child, are there sinners in the keep. Speak the truth, and the Gods will forgive you your sins."

"Which sins, High Holiness? The Seven teach us that we shall not point at our brothers' and sisters' sins, for we are no better." Aliena replied, in a confused tone.

"Indeed, you are right. But you shall not point at them, you will confess for them. A deed of charity and love. Do it now, child, or do you not wish to atone this way?" _They have cells, small and cold, here, and whips and chains as well._ No, that was not what she had come for.

She bowed. "And then, the Gods might forgive me?" she asked, breathlessly.  
"The Gods are merciful." said the High Septon, which was neither yes nor no. _He is clever, this one._

"The court is full of sinfulness and fornications, High Holiness, I am ashamed to admit it."

"And the Queen?" he asked. _Straight to the point, that one._

"Which queen? The young one or the old?"

"Both. The Gods want to hear the full truth from you, child." Aliena wanted to shout at him that he should stop calling her 'child', but he liked meek obedience better.

"I know nothing of Queen Cersei, High Holiness, though I know the old king rarely shared her bed, and it grieved her terribly. Queen Margaery is as sweet and innocent a maiden as I ever knew."

Tears streamed down her face again. "I shall never visit a sept again on Maiden's Day."

"No, girl, you shall not. You were a maid but had a woman's wickedness. Surely, you have seen that it did not serve you well?"

"Yes, High Holiness, I shall strive never to be wicked again."

"There are rumours about the Queen Cersei and her brother, an anointed knight of the Kingsguard…"

"False rumours spread by mine own uncle, it shames me greatly. There is no truth in it, I asked the Queen myself."

The High Septon was not content, but he beckoned her to rise.

"You have done well to confess your sins. You have done well to tell Us, sweet girl. The Gods are with you, and they shall forgive you. Trust in Us, and tell Us when something troubles you." _You want your own little spy in the Red Keep._

"Is that allowed, High Holiness?" she asked, with doubts in her eyes.

"We are the High Holiness, and we were chosen by the Gods." _By sparrows, more like._

"You will tell Us when you hear of sins?"

"I shall." she promised.

"We heard good things about you, my lady. You are charitable and care for the poor, give alms and bread to beggars and sold your dresses not a week past and gave the coin to those less fortunate."

"I have been inspired by you, High Holiness. I wish to please the Gods further, and I shall lead a godly life. But how can I ever marry?" Tears welled up in her eyes again and she noticed a hint of annoyance in the man's eyes. _Good, he'll throw me out soon enough._

"A true man will see that you had no part in your cousin's crime, a good man shall forgive you the wickedness that women are known for. Fear not, child, the Gods will be good to you … if you do your duty."

"I shall, High Holiness...though I find it a trying task."

"You will grow with it, I am sure. I vow, we will purge this city of everything that is unlawful, ungodly, and sinful." _Why, you mean to live in an empty city?_

"You have my support, High Holiness, in everything you do. I am thankful that the Gods have heard my prayers and the devout have moved into the sept once again. I look forward to a new era, a time of piety and peace."

The High Septon patted her hand. "Oh, so do we, my lady, so do we."

Two Septas came.

"Follow us, my lady." They each took hold of one arm and led her down a long, narrow corridor that twisted through a restrictive dimness. Fear awoke in her chest, grabbed her lungs and made it hard to breathe.

 _He did not fall for my mummery, he saw through it, I am not as good as I once was._ Where would they bring her? They were not allowed to keep her but the sparrows outside were not like to free her and the gold cloaks were not enough. She started to pray, properly this time..

But then, she saw a high, narrow door she knew well. It led out to the back of the Sept, where the poor often waited for alms and food.

And indeed, the septas led her out of that door, down the steep narrow stone stairs that were soiled and stank.

The smallfolk cheered for her as they recognised her. _A paper shield, but better than no shield at all._ She was still popular and the High Septon would have the sense to see that, hopefully.

"The Gods' delight!" one shouted, as he saw her flanked by two septas, and others took up the cry. She gave out all the coin she had, and left Visenya's hill before evenfall, not at all content and feeling rather hopeless.

 _He is a dangerous man when given power, and all these sparrows here make me nervous._ Cersei gave them not a single thought though. _Golden-haired, empty headed fool._ Aliena thought. No, Cersei would doom them all. _I have to make him my friend._ She had to deliver him sinners, while protecting those that were important. _No harm may come to Margaery or Tommen. Nor to Cersei, as much as she has sinned, she is needed._ There were some who the Faith could have though. The HIgh Septon had no power yet, but the sparrows outnumbered the gold cloaks by far, and the citywatch was of fickle loyalty at best. _They can have Boros Blount, for all I care, make him a novice or a begging brother._ She knew that no one would go after him, no one would miss the man. _They may never get their hands on Sandor, he is a sinner if there ever was one, and he will tell them the truth upright and proud._ No, that could never happen. It would be his end.

 **~o~**

"You did _what_?" Aliena was speechless. "Your Grace." she added, quickly and toneless.

Cersei looked at her, disappointed. "You have lost much your wits, Aliena, I must confess, I am disappointed. Lady Taena saw the sheer elegance of it right away." Of course she did, she is the spider's creature. "Ever since you changed your garb, you seem to me more septa than lady. You were once my good daughter in everything by name." _Now, you're not anymore._ Cersei left it unsaid.

"You allowed the Faith to take up arms?"

"Are you as slow as your uncle? Yes. They shall rid us of all the scum, don't you see?" _You mean they will rid you of Margaery._

"Indeed, now I see it. A very clever plan."

Cersei gave her an approving nod.

"They will purge this city of sinners and leave the streets clean and orderly."

 _And they will leave the Red Keep empty._ She was once again shocked about Cersei's lack of judgement. She might have doomed herself with that act of foolishness but you would never guess it from the way she talked. _She thinks she is cleverer than all kings before her._

"What does Ser Jaime say to this, Your Grace?" Aliena inquired. The Queen's twin seemed to have gained some wits during his time in the RIverlands, and even better, he had acquired judgement.

Cersei frowned again. "Jaime is as changed as you are. One could think all my friends have taken leave of their wits while my enemies are getting stronger every day." _Which enemy? The one when you take a look in the mirror? Or the shadows on the wall in which you see Tyrion?_

"Will you send Ser Jaime to Riverrun?" Aliena asked. It was folly, to send a one-handed man away but the Lord Commander had not even put on a fight and Aliena suspected he was relieved to get away.

"I will. He said he would leave Ser Loras in charge to spite me, but I will have Ser Osmund, never will a Tyrell command the Kingsguard."

"The Hound would make a better commander than Ser Osmund or Ser Loras." The words were out, but they were true as well, so she did not try to take them back. Cersei gave her a long look.

"He frightens Tommen even more now. I made him his master of arms, but he never wants to learn how to fight now." There was a satisfied grin on her face. She fancied herself clever. Tommen would only turn out to be as inept with a sword as Joffrey was.

"That was wise of you, Your Grace." Sandor must have hated it. He did not have the patience to be a teacher, and he despised weakness, and Tommen was neither quick nor strong, although Aliena remembered that he did have courage, at least a hint of it. _He is better than Joff, but that counts for little and less._

"You can go now, Aliena. Unless you want to join me and Taena for dinner."

It had been a trade almost: Cersei had taken the Myrish snake as her companion and Aliena had gone over to Margaery. She did not mind much, the young queen kept a merry court and she was kind and clever and she had even stopped asking when she would finally go to Highgarden.

"Lady Margaery has asked me to join her for a game of _cyvasse_ , Your Grace." Aliena smiled but Cersei gave her a sharp look.

"You remember, I hope, who raised you?"

Aliena looked her right in the eye.

"I shall never forget everything you did for me. You are my aunt, my family, and I am deeply indebted to you."

Cersei liked that well enough. "Go. And tell me how my good daughter fares."

 **~o~**

 **Sandor**

The Lord Commander held him back that morning after they had all broken their fast together.

"Her Grace wants you to become the king's master at arms. She wishes that you practise with him in the yard an hour every day. No harm shall come to him and if she finds bruises, she will have your head." He said, in a monotone voice. _He did not approve._ Sandor knew as everyone else, about the two of them. He had worshipped her once, had been hers entirely. Now, it seemed, he was no longer the cocksure arrogant bastard, and his sister's hold on him was weak. _He has changed in the RIverlands. He is no longer a boy to toy with, he is a man and the old queen likes that not, I bet._

"The boy's scared of me." Sandor said.

" 'The boy' is your king." Jaime corrected him. "And my sister thinks fear might be a good teacher."

Sandor knew that the queen thought so. He shrugged.

"I'll show him how to swing a sword then but I can't teach him how to fight without beating him black and blue. All green boys are when they learn, you know that."

The Lord Commander grinned.

"I do, aye. But I wish you good luck telling my lovely sister that. As ugly as your head it, I'd prefer it if you kept it. Show him how to hold a sword and let him hack a straw dummy to pieces. Our king will like that well enough."

Sandor did not care much. He shrugged again. "Aye."

The Lord Commander was not done though. He looked around, making sure no one was left. Then he said, more quietly.

"Meet me on the old tourney ground at evenfall. I need to practise that wretched new sword hand of mine." He shook his left arm. "If you say a word, only a single word, you'll wish my sister caught you hitting Tommen."

His threat did not impress Sandor much, Jaime Lannister had maybe been his match with two hands. But with one? The king had better chances, he thought. One hand was not as good as the other, no matter how many frauds claimed they could fight well with both. The Lord Commander was fucked, in truth, and tonight, he'd see that.

"I'll be there." he rasped and left the Kingslayer alone in the circular room.

The evening came, the sun left, and Sandor strode over to the tourney grounds from the Lion's Gate.

The Lord Commander waited for him, neither of them wore their white cloaks. Tourney swords with blunted edges lay in the dewy grass at his feet, and two plain shields of oak wood and iron.

They began without many words. Sandor fought with half his strength if at all, but the disaster was plain enough. Even Blount would stand a chance against the Commander now. He was slow, and often aimed at the wrong side, his parries were sloppy and Sandor had disarmed him more often than he could count. Time and time again, the golden shock of hair almost touched the greying green grass as the sunlight faded when he had to bend and pick up the sword he had lost.

Jaime ended their depressing practise with a smile full of feigned confidence.

 **Jaime**

"I will practise every night and my left hand might of some use one day." Jaime said with an optimism he did not feel.

"You have better chances regrowing that hand." Sandor rasped, unsympathetically but not unkindly.

"I could kill you for that." Jaime said, rage ringing in his ears.

"You'd be one hand poorer." Sandor turned away.

"Ser Ilyn might want to see to that."  
"Cut out the tongue that speaks the truth and you'll hear only lies." Sandor grunted as he looked him in the eye. "Is that what you want?"

Jaime sheathed his sword. "No one may ever know." he said, trying to ban the pleading tone from his voice.

"No one will ever hear it from me." He could not see Sandor's face in the darkness that had slowly crept up on them, which was perhaps not so bad. "But you'll have to fight one day. And then, they'll see." He served him the truth brutally in a flat rasping voice.

Desperation took hold of Jaime. "And what can I do?" he asked into the darkness. "It's the only thing I had. It's the only thing I wanted." _Life's not fair,_ he almost said, but remembered the Hound's burns and brother just in time. _I am a whimpering weenie._

Slowly, Sandor turned around. Looked him in the eye for a long time.

"Aye." he said and Jaime understood. Oberyn had taken the same thing from him. But _he_ still had a hand to take revenge.

"There's more you had than your hand." His dark rasp was loud in the silence of the deserted tourney grounds. "You still have that now. But it won't do you any good here."

He picked up the blunted swords and shield.

"I have to go now." he said, curtly. "There's something I need to do."

And he left Jaime alone with darkness and a useless sword. His words had truth in them, though. _I am no longer a proper knight. I am no use here in the Kingsguard. But I am an able commander. I can lead, although I cannot fight._ It was not what he wanted, it had never been his dream, to _lead_ an army, but it was something and it was something he could be good at if he tried. _Father was more commander than warrior._ It seemed ironic that now, after Tywin's death, he discovered something they had in common. He would go, leave for Riverrun. There was a siege to plan and lead and his life had not ended with his mutilation. With long strides did he walk back to the city and hoped that no outlaw gang would block his way. He'd be doomed if they had more than one hand.

 **~o~**

 **Sandor**

He had more in his life than his brother. He had been so blinded by rage, so absolutely foolish. She would not have him anymore, of that he was certain, but he should be doomed if he didn't at least try. He strode back to the city with her on his mind, and the guards opened the gate for him without comment. It was full dark by now but torches lit the way. His boots made squishy sounds on the wet soil, and his thoughts were far away, high on Aegon's Hill. He had thought Jaime ungrateful for not seeing anything but his stump while he himself had seen nothing but Gregor's death. _It was never her fault. She wanted to protect me._ She had. There were rumours now, rumours that seemed to come from nowhere, that Gregor was not dead, that the skull that had been sent to Dorne was not his. _Whether he is dead or not, he will not steal her from me._ That was, if he himself had not ruined everything. He _had_ to try, he had to go back to her. Sandor longed to see her face, her smile, longed for the mockery as much as for the anger that would await him. _Hopefully she will speak to me._ He could not fault her if she didn't want to, but in the corridor, not a week past, even though she had taken a step back, there had been feeling in her eyes, not ice. He was so lost in thoughts that he never heard the footsteps.

"Sandor Clegane, in the name of the Faith, we arrest you for fornication, heresy and murder." It was a thin voice but this part of the city was quiet and the voice was enough to rouse him from his thoughts.

Suddenly, Sandor found himself surrounded by men armed in mismatched armour, the seven pointed star over their hearts, swords, spears and crossbows in their hands.

"Bugger off, you lot, and I won't kill you." he rasped but they did not move.

"Oh fuck you." He had no time and no patience for this sorry lot, now that he had made his decision.

Sandor drew his sword and let them come. He hacked at them savagely, impatient to rid himself of these begging brothers but more and more appeared, stepping out of the darkness. He wore only breastplate and mail and many of their blades bit into his flesh. Someone knocked him on the head and he felt dizzy, the night around him faded to even deeper darkness. The last thing on his mind was the bitter irony of it. She would never know.


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer: All of this belongs to George R: R. Martin, apart from Aliena. Especially the quote I stole from the Elder Brother to give it to the High Sparrow.**

Dear Guest: Yes, this is kind of what I want her to be like, Machiavellian but not dangerous or overly ambitious. (cough, I'm looking at you, Petyr, cough)

Nyany4: Thanks a lot for taking the time to review after every chapter! I apologise whole-heartedly for my cruelty. ;) I promise, I have prepared some fluff, just for you (not in this chapter, I fear, but in the next!)

Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou: Thank you for your reviews, honestly! Here it comes!

TheOneKrafter: Thank you a lot for reviewing! I honestly wish I had included that "sharpen your silver tongue" in this! Your review could have basically been a cryptic warning from Varys :D

I also apologise for my lengthy author's notes, but I explicitly ask for reviews so I'd think it disrespectful not to reply to those that have been kind enough to do so.

* * *

 **King's Landing, the second moon of the year 300AC**

 **Aliena**

They sky outside was bleak grey, the rain streamed down her windows and Aliena did not know whether the sun had risen yet or not. Autumn bid them all farewell and the rain was the tears the Gods wept, Aliena had heard the servants say. Her own tears could have matched those of Gods', but she forced herself to hold them back. What good would it do her?

Her hearth had grown cold overnight and she almost cursed. The new girl was not half as mindful as Kenna, and untrustworthy as well.

She pulled on her heavy velvet bedrobe, not in the mood to build a fire, and huddled in the chair by the window, looking out at the rivers that streamed down her lead glass window, watching the sparse light dancing on the steel grey sea. _As grey as his eyes. Not mine._ Even though she tried hard to forget him, the way he had looked at her, she couldn't. Most mornings she woke up full of bliss until she realised it had been a dream. Aliena would have appreciated nightmares more, at least she would not have to deal with the grave disappointment every day. She could not even take a potion to sleep better, Pycelle would only mumble and stumble if she asked him for a potion to give her nightmares, or better, no dreams at all.

There was a knock on the door, so faint that she almost overheard it because of the prattling rain.

It was a serving girl, young, perhaps twelve.

She did not speak and Aliena knew that she was a little bird. But whose?

"What is it, sweetling?" she asked, and the girl gave her a note, a scribble.

 _"Your pet has been captured, and it might be put down for its bad behaviour. May the Seven judge it justly."_

Aliena did not know the handwriting but its meaning was clear.

"You can go, thank you." she said to the girl, and she hurried away.

Slowly, Aliena read the note again. Then she held the paper to a candle flame and waited until nothing remained of it but curling ashes.

It was the worst thing that could have happened. He would _confess_ , he was not one to be sly and lie. And the punishment for murder was… He did not care for her anymore, but she did care for him, more than for anyone, and she would save him, would _have to_ save him.

She dressed as quickly as she could, in the linen and wool she wore these days, and hurried over to the Queen's chambers.

Cersei was not alone, the Myrish woman was with her, but Aliena did not care. She should know, she should tell Varys, what did it all matter now?

"Your Grace!" She knew that her cheeks were flushed and her hair was in disarray. Cersei did not look pleased.

"What in the name of all Seven-" the queen started but Aliena interrupted her.

"The Faith has taken Sandor Clegane into custody." She noticed too late that she should have called him 'Hound'. Cersei looked confused for one moment, then irritated.

"With which reasons?"

"I do not know, but I suppose they call him a murder and a heretic." The Gods knew, he had named his horse _Stranger_.

Cersei frowned.

"Well, he is." she admitted. _No._ She had the _real_ monster of House Clegane in her dungeon, what did she care for the little brother.

"He is a man of the Kingsguard, Your Grace." Aliena reminded her. "This is an attack on the king's authority, and on yours as well, Your Grace." That would hopefully rouse the lioness.

If not...Some tears seemed in order.

"He… Joff, he always looked up to him, the Hound was like a second father-" _More like a big toy soldier_. "Joffrey cared for him - and if we let the Faith- " her voice broke away. Cersei's expression had changed.

"You are right. Go and tell the High Septon that I do not allow such ungrounded arrest." _Oh, why, that will convince him no doubt._

"I shall." Aliena dried her tears. "Forgive my outburst, please. I just cannot -" Cersei put a hand on her arm.

"He loved you just as dearly, sweetling." _He?_ She was confused for a moment. _She means Joffrey, not Sandor._

"I - I know." A forced smile. _That was why he loved to hurt me so._

She apologised for her behaviour again, mumbled something about Joffrey, and left the queen to her new companion.

Quickly, she hid her hair in a snood of grey silk, scribbled a note, took her dark cloak and two guards and had her horse saddled.

She would go to him, whether he wanted to see her or not. Aliena knew it was folly, knew that she might never leave the sept again, but if that was the price she had to pay, she would.

"I have come to speak to His High Holiness." she told the armed guards, and they let her in, but not her gold cloaks. _What does it matter?_

"You are early." The septon said. _Has he expected me? W_ _hat does he mean? Did someone talk?_ Sandor would not have said anything...but perhaps they had not been so cautious?

"But you come just in time for the morning prayer." he said. _I should not be so nervous. He knows nothing._

Aliena knelt down next to him and mumbled the words with the fervour that she felt. But while her lips spoke those words, there were others on her mind.

"Father, guide us today and lead us not into temptation. Protect us from evil and give us the strength to fight it." That last part was new.

 _Father, protect him and give him strength. Show me the way. Protect him, do it, or I shall give up serving you._

She prayed to all Seven, for all the good it would do him.

She knelt down in front of the altar of the Stranger. No words were said for him, but she thought if anyone would help Sandor, it would be this one.

 _Do not take him with you. Bar the gates to him, and sent him back. He named his horse for you, the only thing he loves._

Her prayers were too weak to sway a willow, but her acts would.

She broke her fast with the High Septon on hard bread and stale water, as they talked about the _purge_ , as he called it.

"I heard you took the Hound into custody, too." Aliena said, careful now not to use his name.

"I prefer to call him by the name his father chose for him. Sandor. No man should hide behind a helmet and a moniker, and no man can before the Gods."

"Sandor Clegane, then. He is guilty of terrible sins, I am certain."

"My brothers found him when he was on his way back from some whorehouse."

It was as if he had punched her in the stomach with a leaden fist. _A whorehouse._ He had forgotten her. That was hard enough to swallow. But she would not let him down, even if he had, she had not forgotten him.

"He is the most ungodly man I have ever met and his sins are countless." The High Septon continued in a grave tone. "He is guilty of blasphemy and heresy, fornication, gambling, and murder." _He is godless and a gambler and killed men and visited whores, more than I care to know._

"Surely he is guilty. He was Joffrey sworn shield though, and protected me from my cousin's wrath more often than I can to count."

"One good act can not cancel out the bad ones. As we sin, so do we suffer." _What have you done to him?!_

"Of course." she forced herself to smile. "I would just like to see him. Gratitude is a woman's virtue."

"So it is." The High Septon rose from his chair.

"All I want is to thank him but also advise him to put his fate in the hands of the Gods. He is a stubborn man, and often blinded by fury."

"I have never seen a man so full of rage." The old man said as they walked down the narrow corridor together. "He serves, but finds no pride in service. He fights, but takes no joy in victory. He drinks, to drown his pain in a sea of wine. He does not love, nor is he loved himself."

 _You are wrong, you hypocritical, canting, cruel fool. I do._ All this was Cersei's fault and her own, for she had underestimated the danger once again. _I am his worst curse, not his brother._ She would free him, not only because she did not want to live without him, but also because she owed him. _It is good that I did not have the strength to leave without him, or he would die now._ Aliena knew no one else would try to save him.

His cell was at the end of a dark narrow corridor, the door old oak and iron bars.

The High Septon pushed it open. And closed it behind her, but she never noticed.

They were watched, of that she was aware.

Sandor lay on a straw pallet dressed in a roughspun shift that was red and brown with blood. _What have they done to you?_ It took her every grain of strength to restrain herself from falling on her knees beside him and kiss him, and hug him, and caress the broken skin.

He turned around when he heard her and she almost gasped in shock. One eye was so swollen that he could not open it, there was a bleeding wound on his forehead, on the burnt side, dried blood crusted his lip and nose as well. But the other eye, it saw, and it was overjoyed.

"Forgive -" His voice was hoarse and no more than a whisper. _They have not given him water._

"I have nothing to forgive you, Clegane." That should wake him up.

"Don't-" he said, and she understood. He thought she hated him. She dared to shake her head, only faintly, and tried to put everything she felt into her gaze.

"Only the Gods can forgive you your sins." she said now. "But I have come to express my gratitude, as I should have long ago. You protected me from my cousin's wrath, you saved me."

 _So many times._ She held out her hand, to bless him as she had blessed smallfolk and begging brothers.

He had understood now and pushed himself to a kneeling position, took her hand. For once, his fingers were cold, but she still relished the little skin contact. She hoped and prayed that he would feel the parchment, that whatever they had done to him had not blunted his wits.

"Nothing to be grateful for, _lady._ " His voice was still weak but he stressed that word. "I did not do it for you."

Perhaps she was wrong to see a double meaning in it but it almost seemed to her as if he wanted to say that it was not her fault that he had missed his chance to kill his brother.

She let go of his hand slowly, felt the parchment leave her hand.

"May the Seven judge you justly. The Gods have their eyes on you." _You are watched, do not read it openly._

He nodded to that. _He understood._

"Aye, they won't like what they see."

He was incorrigible, even in shackles, and she wanted to kiss him for that but instead, she turned around and left without another look.

His High Holiness stood outside.

"He is unyielding." _That he is,_ she thought with a touch of pride.

"I heard so. But surely, there will be a just trial?" It was in the book of the Seven, this man could not deny Sandor a trial.

"Should he ask for one, yes."

Aliena had made sure that he would.

"I am certain that all you want is justice." She said, softly. "He has always angered me, I admit it, but we are not to contemn a man. Not even you, High Holiness, may judge a man. This power lies only in the seven that are one."

The High Septon stopped walking abruptly to look at her with scrutinising eyes.

Slowly, he nodded. "So shall it be. It is good of you to remind me." He started walking again, slowly, still look at her. _What do you see, old man?_ "I admit, he angers me … but the Seven shall judge him." He folded his hands piously.

"I suppose he will choose trial by combat. He is wounded, I saw." Aliena replied, biting back harsher words. _What did you do to him?_

"He refused to go with my brothers peacefully, so they had to use force. He has slain seven good servants of the Gods." She felt a twinge of satisfaction and was ashamed of it at the same time. Those green boys had not deserved to die.

"I understand."

"And when he refused to pray, he was whipped."

 _Whipped?_ Fury coiled in her stomach. This man... _Calm down. Thoughts of revenge will not help Sandor._

"That was ill done." she said.

"I seldom feel as close to my Gods as when I am in pain." The old man insisted.

"It is your duty to see to it that he is in a state to defend himself, High Holiness. The book of the Seven states that justice shall be done and no side may be favoured. I will send a maester to see to his wounds." she said. "I thought it was justice you had in mind, High Holiness, and not revenge."

She looked the man straight in the eye now. And to her surprise, he nodded after a moment of hesitation.  
"We have walked down the street of anger. You are right to remind Us, my lady." Aliena did not fail to notice that he spoke as the High Septon again, not only as a man. His words were binding. "Send your maester. Sandor Clegane is a child of the Seven. He has confessed his crimes honestly. It is not for Us to punish him. He shall be judged justly for his sins but not by Us."

"So it shall be." Aliena knelt down to kiss his hands. "You will bring justice again, I know you will. Our kings have failed us but the Faith Militant shall do what the kings could not. As long as they are not misled by worldly desires."

Again, he nodded. "We shall not use our holy cause to exert revenge. We shall not presume to act in the name of the Gods. You have Our word."

Aliena rose to her feet.

"I am thankful, High Holiness, that you have come to bring justice to this godless place. I will visit you again on the morrow, if I may?"

"I will wash the feet of the sick and old." _Oh Gods be good._ But she could not refuse.

"I will join you. And bring as much bread as I can get. The poor still go hungry." Her drop of dragon blood had protected her from sickness so far. She prayed that it would protect her tomorrow as well.

 **~o~**

 **Cersei**

Cersei was more than pleased. Yes, Osney would sing his sweet song and the Blue Bard would be more than willing to sing his. The dungeons changed a man, the queen found. _And to the better._ It had been a brilliant notion to allow the Faith to take up arms and once again, she applauded herself. _Do you see it now, Father? I am the son you thought you never had._

Wherever Tywin Lannister was, he looked at her with pride now, certainly. Indeed, the business with the Hound was quite unfortunate but Cersei was not in the mood to look for a fly in her broth. _He_ is _a sinner, and Tommen is scared of him._ He was the best fighter she had left, now that Jaime had lost his hand and Gregor his life, but Qyburn was working on the latter. _He was only the puppy and I will have the true beast._ It was quite sad for Aliena, the poor thing, she had been in tears. The man had been Joffrey's shield, almost a father. But a queen had to make some concessions, she would understand.

Of course, Cersei could not tell the girl that she cared nothing for the Hound, none of that would reach Aliena. Cersei would allow her to try everything in her power to save the man Joffrey had cared for, and when he was dead, she would hopefully see that Cersei was everything she had left. Joff's death had left the girl changed, but she had been more spirited this morning, full of anger, and Cersei saw the girl again that she had thought as good as her own. _It is her love for Joff._ A sorry affair and she wished it could have been avoided but Aliena would overcome the Hound's death. Perhaps, she would take a liking to Tommen in time, and then, she could take Maid Margaery's place. A pliable bride she would be, and she would never try to usurp Cersei's crown. _Yes, that is very elegant. Who could object? She is Robert's image, as far as a pretty maid can be, and the roses like her well._ Perhaps Cersei would have to promise that the king's daughters would all marry Tyrells, or his sons blushing pretty roses, but that was ages hence. She spun around in her gown of golden satin, so delighted was she over the course of events. _This is my work, all of it. I have the wits to do what Robert could never do, I have the courage to do what my father could never do._ She was better than the both of them and it gave her a grim satisfaction.

She called for her Lord Whisperer to hear how things were going. Perhaps she would have dinner with Aliena tonight, to share her grief, and then take Taena to bed with her. The Myrish woman and her little niece would get on well, for sure.

"Your Grace." Qyburn was his grey old self and bowed respectfully. _This is what I was born for._

"Qyburn." she said, and because she felt especially generous today, she corrected herself: "Maester Qyburn, what tidings do you bring me? Has Aliena gone to the sept yet? And has she come back out?"

She did not doubt it, apart from that one sorry affair with Joff, she was as pure as the untouched snow beyond the Wall.

"She has entered the sept, my lady, but she is still praying with the High Septon."

"It is good of her to care so for a man no one loves." Cersei allowed. "She does it all for Joff, of course. She has not learnt yet to accept his tragic death I fear, and will not until Tyrion is dead." Perhaps she should use that as a motivation. Men would look for the imp twice as hard if they could hope to win not only the gratitude of a queen but also the love of a blushing maiden.

"I heard a different song, Your Grace, pray forgive me. A little bird told me that not a moon past, after your son's most tragic death, she was seen kissing the man they call the Hound in an alley in Flea Bottom."

That was so ridiculous that Cersei laughed out loud. Aliena and the Hound. The rabble was creative, she had to admit. She did not ask how much Qyburn paid his little whisperers, but it was too much.

"You do not know her well at all, Qyburn. And you never saw her with Joff. They were devoted to each other, even after he was betrothed to Maid Margaery. Aliena is a pretty thing, though not half as comely as the Tyrell girl. But she has a certain effect on men, always had. And Joffrey fell for that as well. He did not want his rose bride, said he would marry Aliena, and only her. She, on the other hand, refused to marry at all as not to be a hindrance to the king's wedding that bought him the important allegiance of the Tyrells. She is devoted to Joffrey still.

The Hound is more beast than man and he might dream of bedding her but he is not capable of more. I am sure, he would take her gladly in some dirty alley but Aliena would never. The man is brutal and cruel, and he is as terrifying as he is ugly. Joffrey was fair of face and hair, tall and slim, the man of her dreams."

 _Though he could be brutal and cruel as well._

"Forgive me then, Your Grace." Qyburn said, but there was a hint of doubt in his eyes.

"More likely is that your little bird saw the Hound with some whore. No doubt Robert spent his seed in half the whores of King's Landing, so many of the younger ones will have his dark hair and light eyes. And the Hound is no stranger to the dirty whorehouses of Flea Bottom, I'd wager. With those hideous scars of his…"

"That is an explanation, Your Grace. My little informer will have to learn what happens to those that spread false rumours."

He gave her a soft smile and Cersei decided not to dwell on it. This was too beautiful a day to think about the things Qyburn did down in the dungeons.

"You can go." she dismissed him. "Aliena shall be sent to my rooms as soon as she is back, I will dine with Lady Merryweather."

"As you wish, Your Grace." And the short man bowed and retreated with soft steps.

 _Aliena and the Hound._ Cersei chuckled. _Jaime's more likely to regrow a hand._

She had half a mind to tell her later but she would surely be offended and sad again. Aliena had been troubled these past weeks but surely, in time, she would overcome Joffrey. _She is no real lioness. Strong, fierce, loyal. But no true Lannister._ Only Cersei was, the last lion of the Rock. _And they will hear me roar._

 **~o~**

 **Sandor**

When he heard her voice, he had first taken it for some fever dream. In a dream, she would not be dressed like this though, as pious and demure as a septa. He saw the shock on her face when she saw his. His left eye was swollen and throbbing, but he saw her clear enough. Her hair was bound up in a little bag of silk, most of it covered, and the colour of her gown made her look pale. No, this was no fever dream for sure. The door closed behind her and for a moment he feared that she had been arrested, too. _But what for? She is as innocent as a septa._

He needed to use this chance that had been granted him to tell her what he had wanted to tell her. _This chance I won't miss._ His throat was dry, they had not given him anything to drink, but he tried nevertheless.

"Forgive-" he croaked but she interrupted him rudely.

"I have nothing to forgive you, Clegane." Her voice was as cool as the water of the Blackwater these days, even and betrayed no hint of affection. _I have lost her. Perhaps she has come to mock me or perhaps she has come to witness my shame._ He was battered and bleeding and in pain, but it had been forgotten when she had walked in. Now, he became more self-conscious. He wore only this bloody shift, there was the stubble of a beard on one cheek and his chin and he must smell. But she was so close and perhaps this was his only chance..

"Don't." he pleaded, desperate. Now, he saw understanding flicker across her pale, beautiful face, then the faintest of smiles, soft, sweet. Her gaze was intense.

"Only the Gods can forgive you your sins." she said now. "But I have come to express my gratitude, as I should have long ago. You protected me from my cousin's wrath, you saved me."

 _These buggering bastards are listening._ As much as he wanted to talk to her, he could not risk her life as well.

She offered him her hand, a gesture he had seen before. She gave him a maiden's blessing. _Just that is is no maiden anymore. I let her down._ He had many things to confess, he agreed with the septon, but he was certain they did not have the same definition of sin.

With all his strength, he pushed himself to a kneeling position. His side burned, where a blade had bitten his flesh, and his right knee was swollen from the fall.

He took her hand. It was cold in this cell but her hands were warm, and soft. She squeezed his hand slightly and he felt something else, something that was not skin. Something crisp. _A note._ He moved his hand so that it was easier to take it.

"Nothing to be grateful for, _lady._ " He stressed that word to show her that he was aware of the eyes and ears, that he would not be so foolish as to read this note openly. "I did not do it for you." He added, hoping that she got it, hoping that she would see what he meant. _It was not your fault. I was wrong, I was a stubborn bastard and I treated you like shit._ She should be kicking him, mock him, look at him with scorn. But she didn't. _Once I'm out of this bloody cell again, I'll make it up to her. I'll do whatever -_

She squeezed his hand again, she would let go. Carefully, he hid the piece of paper ni his hand, hoping that no blood would stain her words.

"May the Seven judge you justly. The Gods have their eyes on you." her voice was sharp but she wouldn't have had to mention it. Sandor knew he was watched.

He nodded.

"Aye, they won't like what they see." he laughed, and did not even have to force it. She had come.

She gave him a last lingering look and he tried to burn her image into his mind. Then she left and closed the door and Sandor felt the paper burning in his palm. He waited, although he did not know how long. The shadow of the barred window had moved from the opposite wall down to the floor when he finally dared to open his hand again. The paper was half hidden by the straw of his pallet, but her writing was clear.

" _Forgive me, if you can."_ was the first line and he felt tears of shame burning in his eyes. All this time had he made her believe that he did not care, had he made her believe that it was her fault. _I will prove her my worth, I can, once I'm free again, I will._

" _You stand accused of half a dozen crimes, some of which you are guilty of, as witnesses will prove. Your only chance is therefore trial by combat but be warned, the sparrow is not a fair man. He will not let you win that easily. I guess he might be using seven defenders, one for each aspect of the Gods. He might also insist that you are not to wear plate as your innocence must be your armour. I cannot help you in a duel, I fear, although I hope this warning might, but I will do for you whatever I can."_ There was no more room but she had squeezed a warped heart in a corner, drawn with black ink.

She thought him indifferent, perhaps, but she was not. Sandor read it again. _I will do for you whatever I can._ Only when he read it for the third time did he realise what it meant. _Seven opponents, in the state I'm in._ That would not be easy. But fighting without armour… Sandor sat up. No more lying down. He would have to find his strength. For her as much as for himself. _She sacrificed her own life by smuggling this in._ Sandor considered. If it was found...he put it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and it was gone. _She got the fairytales all wrong. She's always there to save the beast instead of waiting for her prince to save her._ She was not like the others. Sandor ahd to smile despite himself.

When the door opened again, he thought he would be brought down to the dungeons again. Instead, they brought him a jug of water. _Poison?_ He sniffed and it stank, but not more than the ale in some brewhouses. Thirst won and he drank it down slowly. It tasted foul but felt deliciously wet in his mouth.

Later came a maester, one from the Red Keep. _Her words sway even that iron old man._ It almost made him smile but he restrained himself.

It was the young one with the freckles, he had soft hands and eyes that looked at him without seeing him really. He treated the cuts as if Sandor was some sort of doll, but he treated them all the same. The salve burned, as it always did, but it was a sweet pain. She had sent this fool, no doubt, the most clueless maester at court, one who did not know anything that could incriminate Sandor, or anyone else.

When the boy left, Sandor felt better than he had in the past weeks. His body was bruised, bloody and bandaged, but his mind was clearer than ever. He would fight those seven beggars, kill them all, and the buggering septon, then he would see to her. Make up to her what he could. He would apologise, for all the good it did, but he needed to say it.

When the sun set, a septon came, or a novice, or whatever he was. He brought water and bread.

"You have confessed your sins. And as we sin so do we suffer. The Gods will judge you justly. Either you choose the Most Devout to-"

"Fuck the devout. I demand trial by combat." Sandor rasped.

The other one, the sparrow leader, entered his cell with a smile.

"You have that right." he said. "I have to apologise. You had confessed your sins before the Gods, I had no right to judge you for them. As you wish. Before the Seven will you fight to prove your guilt... or innocence. If the Gods judge you innocent, you are free to go. If you are found guilty of all the crimes you admitted to, you shall be punished accordingly."

Sandor snorted. "You're almost licking your lips, old man. Looking forward to that, are you? Don't get your hopes up. Your champion will forget his Gods and pray to me soon enough."

It sounded as something he would say. He had to pretend to underestimate him and the man would make a mistake.

The novice took out something that looked like a whip but the old man put a sinewy hand on it.

"No, brother. It is not for us to torment those that have confessed." Then he turned to Sandor and his pale water blue eyes were full of hatred.

"As you say." he nodded. "I have never met a more ungodly man than you, but the Gods shall decide, not me. I was reminded of that again today."

The novice left them alone in the cell.

"Your trial by combat shall take place in six days. Your wounds will have healed by then."

He turned around, then looked back down at him.

"I pray to the Seven for justice. I pray to the Seven for your end. Those were my brothers you slaughtered in that alley."

"I warned them." was all that Sandor replied and the old man locked the door as behind him without another word and left Sandor alone.

* * *

Hey, thank you for reading. I have to apologise for this. Firstly, I have no idea where we are timewise, but I decided that it might be start of 'February', and that fits well into the storyline I developed^^

Secondly, the High Septon is more than a little out of character I fear, but I didn't really want to have Sandor whipped and hanging from the ceiling in shackles like poor Osney, just not so appealing to me. I also try to stay as close to the original plot as possible and he had this amazing duel with Beric...

I was inspired by what it was like in the Catholic Church of old, once you confessed what they wanted to hear, the torture stopped (normally), and there was the block waiting for you^^. I know that a trial does not really make sense as he has already confessed but it is needed, so I chose to be pragmatic. I'm sorry though, I know it's not exactly a masterpiece of logic.

I hope you enjoyed it anyway. Next one is going to be better. Perhaps.


	39. Chapter 39

**Nyany4:** I know, mine are not working properly either...Perhaps they should send us ravens instead. I didn't mean autumn is over, more like the golden days of autumn are over and it's slowly getting darker and colder. Like Novermber. I'll edit that part and I left a hint in this chapter. Thanks for pointing it out, I'm never quite sure when it comes to chronology. Thank you a lot! Also, I'm sorry, I had to postpone the fluff, I'm trying to shorten my chapters now, seems I can only do 1'000 or 8'000, there's no middle ground. But I'll update tomorrow!

 **ShinyRedPenny** : It's so sweet of you to review, thank you. I still feel honoured^^ and I'm glad you liked it!

 **TheOneKrafter** : Yeah, I actually really love writing Cersei chapters because she's so ignorant about the people she thinks she knows best. I'm glad you think so about the tension! Yeah, I really hate him, too, I mean who doesn't? I'm just looking forward to the Cersei- Sparrow clash, it's like Umbridge- Voldemort...as Ned said once: I wish there was a way they would both lose.

 **HIimprettyawesomehowaboutyou** : Pretty much what I just said, I totally agree with you! As always, I thank you a lot for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Six days later**

 **Sandor**

"You are in a state to fight?" The old man asked, his voice cool with an underlying tenseness. _This one is as nervous as a maiden on her wedding day, he just hides it well._ Sandor knew what he was praying for.

"Give me my sword and I'll show you, old man." He replied.

"The Faith has chosen its defenders. We champion the cause of the Seven that are One, and therefore we shall have seven champions, joined by their cause." _Just as she has foreseen._

Sandor spat out.

"I like an open cheat. Your seven swords against mine. Where's the justice in that, septon?"

"The Gods protect those with a just cause."

Sandor could see the hatred in those cold eyes. _You want many things, old man, but not justice. It is revenge you have a thirst for, I know that well._

"Spare me your bloody piety, fraud. I want my armour, I can count on that when it comes to protection." He stretched, waiting for the other man to decline his wish.

"You shall have your breastplate and shield, as we found it. But more we cannot give you."

"But your seven beggars will wear full plate, is that the way of it?"

"The seven brave brothers will wear breastplate and shield, just like you."

That was something.

Sandor took a swallow of the stale water they served him here.

Then, a boy came with his breastplate. It was dented and scratched, but it would serve, he supposed. His fingers were not as deft with the leather straps as they had been but he managed to secure them after all. His shield bore the three dogs of House Clegane, but the paint had chipped off and only one dog remained intact. _Gregor's not alive, Elenor's dead...but I'm still here._ And he would stay. _Fuck them all, they'll go to hell before noon._

The trial took place in the Great Sept, and the seven-pointed star in its circle of marble tiles marked the fighting pit. The morning sun shone high through the stained glass windows and painted pious scenes of Baelor's holy life onto the tiles. _A bloody shadow, that's what it is, nothing more._

Sandor smelled smallfolk as he entered. Indeed, they filled one half of the hall. He glimpsed the white cloaked Kettleback but not the Queen's brother. The Lord Commander had departed for the Riverlands already, it seemed. _She_ stood next to the sparrow leader, taller than him and beautiful in grey linen, her hair bound up again in that horrible net. She looked at him with worry. _I'll kill them all, swan, don't worry, I'd kill ten times as many if must be._

He stood in the middle of the sept now, waiting for his opponents. He was ready.

 **Aliena**

He looked thinner and less ferocious and she feared for him. Seven opponents, and he was only lightly armoured. _Seven protect him against those that commit sins in your name._ The Seven would not help him, she knew. _His sword will. He is deadly with a sword, everyone says it, he has fought against greater odds, for sure._ She uderstood little of fighting, but even she knew that it was more than difficult to fight against seven at once. _He can, he will kill them all._ All these green boys who had to die, for her, for Cersei, for the man they called High Sparrow. _And none of us bleeds._ Varys was right, the smallfolk was always the first to pay. _They chose this._ But it did not make it any better.

They came in, all seven at once, in mail and breastplate, the seven pointed star of the Faith on their breast and shields. They closed up around Sandor, hacked at him savagely. Sandor cut through three right at the beginning and kicked their dead bodies away so that he wouldn't trip over them later. Their blood left dark smears on the light marble and Aliena heard faintly, as if through a cloud, the screams of the commons.

Four remained. It was clear that these were hedgeknights or household soldiers, mayhaps trained in battle but not singular fighters. Together though…The formed a circle around _him_ , one standing at _his_ back and Aliena saw Sandor scowl. It was the least honourable thing to do, to attack a foe from behind.

The man sent a savage cut to _his_ unprotected leg and for that, Sandor shortened his up to the knee and kicked his twitching body away. No one came to his aid and Aliena saw the life flow from him in a red stream. _The Gods have no mercy for those that fight without honour._ She understood little of battle but _he_ was faring well, his sword cut through the air like wind, a blur of light grey, here and there at the same time. There was force in his blows as well, and he sent one staggering backwards while _he_ himself stood his ground. It did not occur to Aliena that his leg was so severely wounded that he could not move it.

Sandor bled heavily, that much she noticed, he was standing in a crimson puddle and the blood ran down his leg like a mountain stream. He was sweating, too, his hair was plastered to his brow as he directed savage blows at his opponents' heads while he protected his own with his shield.

Another died when Sandor's sword bit into the flesh under his ear. Aliena had seen men dying before, and this one was no different. His mocking sneer was replaced by the look of true horror that only those had that looked in the eye of the Stranger. The man tried to stop the blood rushing out of him but it welled up between his fingers and ran down his arms and the man went to his knees and fell to the floor with his face in a puddle of his own blood.

Now it was two against one but while Sandor's leg was bleeding severely and he had a horrible gash on his neck, the other two were almost unharmed. And they tired him out, she could see that much. One sent a cut to his brow and Sandor did not manage to get his shield up in time. The blade left a red trail on his forehead but apparently, Sandor had been quick enough to bend backwards just in time to prevent further damage.

Only when the High Septon gave her a quizzical look did she noticed that she had shrieked in fear. She did not care for him now, she would resolve this later when Sandor was well and out of this misery. _Seven, protect him against the injustice that is committed in your name._ Surely, the Gods would not support this. _When have the Gods ever supported anything?_

The crowds cheered for the remaining brothers of the Faith, the Hound had never been popular amongst them. Some threw rotten apples and other foul things at Sandor, and some hit their target but he never even flinched.

It was two against one still but Sandor's blows were more savage now, wilder, more forceful, and quick, very quick. His breastplate was striped with red by now, and on his forehead blood mingled with sweat. He did not show his pain apart from occasional grunts when steel met flesh again. _He is so brave._ All of this had been her doing, every scar he would receive was a scar she had caused. _Gods, give him scars, as long as the flesh heals again._ Scars meant that he would live.

Finally, he sent one of the two staggering, and shoved his sword right into the shorter man's neck. Sandor pulled it out again, ready to make short work of the other one who had stepped back to the outer line of the circle, suddenly in fear. He raised it- but it was broken. Little more than a foot of grey steel remained, the end blunted and uneven, no longer sharp.

"Fuck the bloody Gods." Aliena heard him curse and the septon next to her muttered angry prayers, no doubt he asked the Gods to finish Sandor off.

With his broken sword, he had a far shorter reach, Aliena saw, and the other man saw it too. He was already jubilant, encircling Sandor and hacking savagely at his simple oak and iron shield. _This is not going well. He has no sword to kill him with unless he goes and picks up the dead man's sword._ The other man seemed to think the same for now, he kicked the sword out of the circle. Sandor's shield had been reduced to a skeleton of iron and bits of wood and was little more useful than nipples on a breastplate.

"Ha! You'll meet your Gods shortly, Hound, if they want you." The shorter man cried out. "Tell them it was me who sent you on your way, Peet of Saltpans and servant of the Seven."

He lunged out for a final blow but that seemed to be the moment Sandor had waited for. He darted close with two quick limping steps, used the vulnerability of the man's right, now that he had stretched out his arm, and drove in the foot of broken sword until only the handle protruded from his armpit. The other man still had his sword arm raised, the blade trembled in his hand and fell to the floor with a clattering sound.

"You tell them." Sandor growled, his voice laced with disdain, as the man stumbled backwards, his eyes wide open in surprise and pain. He fell onto his back. _He has won._ Oh how she wanted to run over to him, kiss him, tell him how well he had fought, how she had not feared for him the least because she had known all along. Instead, she stayed where she was: At the old man's side, looking at Sandor as if he was nothing more than the Hound.

Sandor knelt on the floor by then, cradling his bleeding arm, then pressing a hand on the wound on his leg.

Maester Frenken hurried over to him to see to his wounds, and called for a litter but Sandor got up, staggering.

"I need no bloody litter." His voice was thick with pain. Then he turned around, looked at her, then at the septon.

"Your Gods have failed you, old man."

But the High Septon kept his countenance.

"I am sure that justice has won. Or will win." There was cold hatred in the old man's voice.

 _His wounds might fester._ Or had the blades been poisoned? _No. He wouldn't._ Although she was not certain. She would tell Frenken to keep an eye on it. _He has won, he has won. Nothing may go wrong now._

Reluctantly, the rows of smallfolk made room for the limping Hound and the maester, half a dwarf at his side.

Aliena remained with the High Septon although she wanted nothing more than running after him.

"You were scared for him." The old man noted. She could not deny that.

"I was." she agreed. "He was my cousin's shield, he protected me well. Of course I was."

She smiled at him. "Justice has won today, the Gods have seen to it."

And before he could do something, she took Osmund Kettleback by the arm and left the sept as quickly as possible. She had the feeling that the High Septon did not bear disappointments well and she pitied his next prisoner, for there would be a next one, many next ones, to that Cersei had seen.

"The Dog fought well, but he's getting old. I heard his almost forty." Kettleback prattled as they walked.

 _He's merely thirty this year, you fool._ Kettleback _was_ younger, though not much younger, and he was not half as deadly with a sword. No one had ever heard of this man before, that much was certain.

"I agree, he fought well." She said and ignored his helping hand as she mounted.

"Those cuts look bad. Might be I have need of some comfort soon. One of my brothers might pass away." Kettleback gave her a lopsided grin, something he surely thought irresistible. Aliena found he looked as if he was paralysed on one side. _Half lame and twice a fool._

"I am sure you will find a kitchen wench to console you, Ser." She replied with anger but remembered that this was the only Kingsguard that was in a fit state to fight. Balon was gone, Ser Arys Oakheart as well, Ser Loras was half dead after the siege of Storm's End.

Thankfully, Ser Osmund did not take her tone to heart, if he had one.

"Whatever you heard, my lady, those were rumours, believe me. I am a stranger to the silk street and no wench would ever look as sweet as the lady that I dream of."

 _Jealousy in a woman makes a man smug._ She had done well without meaning it.

"Is this lady fair and beautiful?" She asked in a snappy voice and he grinned in response.

"Beautiful she is, my lady, but dark instead of fair and with beautiful eyes."

 _You already said beautiful once, fool._ No, his compliments had not improved. Aliena was relieved when they reached the gate, and then the stableyard, and she could finally leave the boisterous Kingsguard to look for Maester Frenken. Aliena did not trust Pycelle, the man had motives of his own. Ballabar was from the Reach. Qyburn was no maester, though surely the most capable...But utterly untrustworthy. It had to be Frenken, freckled, soft, always blushing Maester Frenken.

They had brought him to the Sword Tower, she heard, and he lay there in agony, his wounds bled horribly and he was feverish. It broke her heart that she could not go to see him. Not yet. _Perhaps he does not want to see me at all._ Perhaps he didn't, but he was back and alive. That was enough for now.

She hurried back to the holdfast. Cersei would want to know how it went. On the way, she pulled her cloak more tightly around her. It was getting colder every day, although it would be weeks, moons till the first frost, the maesters agreed. _That is good. We have to be gone before the first snow falls._ We. _If he will come with me._

The Myrish woman was with the queen when Aliena entered her airy chambers but Cersei sent her away.

"Did the Hound die?" she asked, insensitively.

"No." Aliena replied.

"The Clegane brothers are hard to kill…Too strong and too stupid to know when they should die." _The only one who's stupid is you, but you never see it._ Cersei was so utterly without judgement that her wits were wasted on her.

The Queen noticed that she had slipped up when she saw Aliena's surprised face.

"You may not tell anyone. But Ser Gregor has … recovered." _More like Qyburn has brought him back with some sort of black sorcery._

"I am happy, Your Grace." Indeed, that was good news. He would like that.

She walked over to Cersei's chair and sat down on the footstool as she always had as a girl to tell her everything that happened. _Just like in olden days._

 **~o~**

 **Cersei**

To her utter surprise, the Hound had not died. _It is even better this way_. He had received terrible injuries and that rendered him incapable to fight for a while, Cersei hoped. Once her trap had snapped shut, Margaery would be at the High Septon's mercy, and if she demanded trial by combat, Cersei would make sure that unfortunately, only Meryn Trant was available. _So convenient._ Truly, how well everything played out these days, if only someone would finally bring her Tyrion's ugly head , that would sweeten her pie so much more. _He will die. The whole world is looking for him. And if they have to kill every single living dwarf, I will have his head._

"The Hound has much to thank you for, it seems." she observed.

Aliena sat on a footstool next to her, as she always had as a young girl. She looked up at Cersei's words.

"No, Your Grace, nothing at all. It was not him I did it for." There was still pain in the girl's eyes when she talked about Joff.

 _No, of course not._ No one would save that man for his own sake, he would be aware of it. Cersei did not expect much gratitude from the Hound.

"For Joffrey, I know, sweetling. You have to leave him in peace, though. Tommen is all alone, he needs company." _And I need a successor for Maid Margaery before the vultures come back with yet another rose._

"Tommen likes the company of Lady Margaery better, I fear." Aliena said. _Oh, but not for much longer._

"Lady Margaery is a sweet lady and a diligent wife, I am sure. But it might be that she will not be around for very long. And Tommen will need a lady companion then, someone that can cheer him up."

To Cersei's displeasure, Aliena frowned.

"I will do as Your Grace asks, of course, but Tommen is not the man his brother was."

 _Of course not, little fool, he is a boy._ But Tommen's meekness troubled Cersei too. A king needed to be strong. _I will rule for him, he could make me his hand._ Yes, that was an option. She would be queen dowager and hand, that would serve her needs well enough.

"He is only a boy. Be patient with him. Teach him. You knew Joff best." That was not true, a mother always knows her children best, but Cersei knew that Aliena would like to hear that and she was in a generous mood today. Indeed, the girl's face lit up.

"I shall do as you command. I will never stop mourning for him but I have to live in the present, you are right. Joff would have wanted the best for his brother." Joff had cared nothing for Tommen but Cersei did not say it.

"Indeed." she smiled. "I heard you have become a very pious lady, and your sense for fashion has changed." _And not for the better._ The gowns she wore these days had modest necklines, some of them covered her up to the chin, and they were made of wool or linen, without decoration that deserved the name. She looked plain in them, especially with those horrible snoods she wore to cover her hair.

"Only for the High Septon, Your Grace." _My clever little niece._ "How can I truly believe in the Gods after everything that has happened? They took my mother and father early, my uncle as well, and now my … cousin." Cersei took her hand, suddenly overcome by a wave of affection. _She is the only one who shares my grief and hatred._

"They seem to be cruel indeed but they brought you here, sweetling."

She was quick. "The only thing I can thank them for is that they gave me you for my aunt, Your Grace." she said, sweetly. _Indeed. The only good thing about Robert._

"Has the High Septon asked about something in particular?" _About me, or Lancel, or Robert and the wineskin?_

"About court, Your Grace, and you and Lady Margaery." _I knew._

"And what did you say?" She asked, perhaps too sharply because Aliena looked at her with surprise.

"I said that the court was frivolous under Robert but it is improving now, that you are a above reproach." _Good._

"And what did you say about Maid Margaery?"

"That I know her only little, Your Grace." _A wasted chance, but I can still use that. That sparrow trusts her, and who would not, sweet and innocent as she is. If she tells the tale as well…_

"It is good of you to protect her, Aliena, sweetling."

The girl furrowed her brow. _Don't, it will leave you wrinkled._

"You say that I should tell the High Septon about her sins?" A sly smile crept on her face.

"She never wept for Joffrey, for her heart belonged to another?" she asked now.

 _Is that the most wicked thing you can think of?_ Of course, Aliena was as ignorant about what went on in the bedchamber as Tommen, although Joff had tried to enlighten her.

"Something along those lines." Cersei nodded. "You might have heard the rumours about Margaery and Ser Osney, our handsome scarred knight, or about her and the Prince of the Summer Islands, and her singer."

"Singers are the most devious creatures and no woman could be faulted for falling prey to one, but Ser Osney and Prince Jalabhar Xho...I always took them for honourable men."

There was a spark of mischief in her eyes. _She is mine, entirely. That wizened old crone took her for hers, but it is her loss and my gain._ Aliena was a clever thing, and popular with everyone, it always seemed. _Her heart belonged to Joff and now it is only me she loves._

"Perhaps the poor men only fell victim to her charms. Maid Margaery is pretty, although most of it is youth, and I heard many say that she has a way with men."

"Oh, indeed" Aliena agreed. "We have all seen her dance with a dozen men at her own wedding. An outrage and an insult to her husband but she did not mean ill, I'm certain."

Everything seemed to fall into place. On Maiden's Day, Maid Margaery and her cousins would be taken into custody after Osney's confession, and Aliena would go and come to their aid … seemingly. But actually, she would go to further incriminate her with statements like this. _The best lies have a grain of truth in them._

"Indeed, she can't help it, the poor dear. She is a woman and has a woman's needs."

Aliena was Margaery's age but not once had there been an infatuation, a secret desire, but for Joff.

"What about her cousins, Your Grace?" She asked now. "Not all of them took part in these sinful actions, surely?"

"No, not all. Alla, the little one, begged them to stop, but they would never listen."

"Ah, yes, the poor girl came to me crying once, but would refuse to tell me." _Such a clever girl._ It was all Cersei's doing, of course, Alyssa had not been clever, let alone cunning, and Aliena's father had been as hopeless as Robert. _The girl learnt everything she knows from me._

The queen smiled, pleased. "You will make a pretty queen, Aliena."

"I do not want to be queen." The girl replied, her face still. _Oh, I know. That's why you are perfect._

"We shall see." Cersei smiled instead. "Should His High Holiness ask about me, it would be wise to repeat what you said before."

"It is the truth, Your Grace. Or is there something?" For a moment, there was doubt in her odd, dirty green eyes.

 _No, nothing. I lit a candle to the Stranger when your mother finally died, gave Lancel wine and my cunt to kill Robert, gave Osney the same for the septon and Maid Margaery._ Indeed, she had not been idle, and her enemies were dead or would be soon. _All but Tyrion._ The imp had slipped away but he could not hide forever.

"Of course not, sweetling. I would tell you."

These were things Aliena could not understand. She had not loved her uncle but Cersei was not sure how she would react to his murder, she had not loved the old High Septon but she was not utterly without Faith. Only Margaery was someone they both loathed. Cersei would trust Aliena with this. _I don't have to go myself, she will do most of it for me, and thank me for the opportunity to exact revenge._

Aliena smiled. "Of course."

 _Ser Loras dead or dying, Margaery on her way to an execution, Tyrion chased and hunted, Stannis surrounded by Bolton men, the Tyrells plagued by Ironborn._ Soon, all her problems would be solved. Cersei couldn't help but giggle and Aliena joined her, no doubt thinking that this was still only about Margaery. _She'll be a good wife to Tommen, an obedient good-daughter and a popular lady._

Lions were the kings of the forests, but they were were far from popular. Cersei had never wanted the love of the commons. Tywin Lannister had always been more respected than loved and she was his only heir. But Aliena would fill the hole Robert and Renly had left, she would give out the alms and blessings, pray for a long summer and a short winter, would look sweet and shy and pretty next to her young husband, while Cersei ruled the Seven Kingdoms better than any man before her. Perhaps it was fate that her young son was so meek. Perhaps it was a sign that she should rule, never him. _I am a lioness. And I was born for this._

* * *

Again, not the best, I know, I suck at writing fighting scenes, truly. But this time it's actually true when I say that the next one will be better! ;)


	40. Chapter 40

ShinyRedPenny: Thank you for your support. I will stop apologising then, sorry, it's a habit.^^ I hope I'll manage a High Sparrow POV next chapter, I'm trying it out at the moment.

Nyany4: No, I don't think it would be his style either :) And I have to take a drama break from time to time^^ Here comes the fluff. It's very ... _fluffy._

Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou: Thank you! I love Cersei as a villain.

This is basically just a lot of fluff and a hint at future action. I hope you enjoy it :)

* * *

 **King's Landing, The Red Keep, that same day**

 **~o~**

 **Sandor**

The pain was hot and everywhere, it flowed through him like thick hot syrup, sticking to everything on its way.

"Milk of the poppy, Ser." The freckled maester said and Sandor could not even force his tongue to say the words he had said for almost twenty years. _I am no Ser._ He turned his head away and a stab of pain flashed through his forehead. He groaned and the maester used this moment to force him to drink some of the white liquid. It tasted of flour and sugar and Sandor almost spat it out again like a wilful child.

"I will be back later, Ser, before evenfall." The maester left Sandor to a feverish sleep.

He woke up again when the man changed the dressings. The old ones were dripping red.

"I brought ointments, Ser, and salves. Your wounds will heal well, I am certain, but it needs time."

The man hummed to himself as he wrapped the white bandages around his leg, dressed the wounds on forehead, neck and arm. _He is an utter fool, but not as useless as the old man and more trustworthy than that chainless one._ She had chosen well.

When the maester tried to move his legs in order the secure the end of the bandage, a stab of pain flashed through his right leg and the room went black.

Next thing he felt were cool fingers at his temple and he wanted to tell that toad of a maester to take his bloody fingers off him or he would lose his fingers but his tongue was as useless as nipples on a breastplate, clumsy and heavy, and he noticed that he gurgled like an infant. He could open his eyes though.

It was not the maester and it was not day anymore either. A single tallow candle bathed the room in flickering pale yellow light, and there was a bell next to his bed. A bell and _her_. She looked down at him with worry, had not seen that he had opened his eyes because she was staring at his leg. Sandor reached up with his unscathed right arm and although he could not lift it up high she noticed the movement.

"Oh thank the Gods, you're awake. I was not sure whether it was only the milk of the poppy." He had her full attention now.

He wanted to tell her that he never drank that stuff freely but he still lacked the strength to speak.

She no longer wore the gown she had worn earlier, and her hair was loose and curling. She wore a cloak over a bedrobe and a nightgown, a familiar sight.

"I will come every night, if you still want me to." she said uncertainly. "Do you?" Her face was tense, and there was fear in her eyes. _She thinks I will reject her._

He nodded so violently that the dressing on his forehead slipped to the side. She put it back in place gingerly with cold fingers. Or maybe they just felt cold on his feverishly hot skin.

She smiled and let her fingers trail down his temple again, a soothing cool touch. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, she knelt by his bed.

"I am in the sept right now, everyone thinks. This newfound piety has become rather useful." She whispered. _It is all a game for her, a mummer's farce._ "There are a thousand secret passages underneath and one leads right to the sword tower." She smiled.

"I cannot come during the day, I fear, but I shall be here every night if you want."

He took her hand in reply.

She sat with him for a while, chatting, singing, telling stories and Sandor forced himself to stay awake, not to sleep through this. The night was still black when she looked at him scrutinisingly.

"You should be sleeping. Sleep heals, that much I know."

She got up, looking for something. The small bottle with the milky liquid was on the table by the window and she found it quickly enough.

"Don't be such a child." She scolded. _A child._ He laughed but his ribs hurt so he stopped quickly.

"Only a sip." And he took a swallow after giving her an angry glance.

"As much as I enjoy being here now, I will enjoy it far more when you can speak again. Even though I am surprised, I do almost miss your harsh remarks. Almost."

He was so glad that she was here, mocking him, that he did not even try to reply.

She brushed a few wet strands of hair out of his face. Sandor could feel that the milk was working, his senses were dulled already.

He pretty face was close to his now, he could feel her hair brushing over his skin, inhaled her scent, a musky, floral perfume mixed with her own smell. His nose remembered it well. She kissed him, her lips were cool on his dry mouth, and she tasted heavenly. This was when reality faded to dream, or so he thought.

When he woke up, it was light, she was gone, but he still had her smell in his nose, felt her on his lips.

"Good that you are awake, Ser." The maester was in the room, occupying himself with his ointments.

"I am no bloody knight." Sandor rasped...and heard his own voice. _Good That much at least works again._

"Give me wine." he ordered and the milk-faced maester gave him a scolding look but when he saw his face, he hurried over to the table and poured him a cup of red wine.

It was sour on his tongue, strong, not half as sweet as her but still so much better than the foul water he had drunk in the sept. _Fuck you, old man._ Once he had regained his strength, he'd kill that dirty bastard.

"You might want to sleep now, S-." The maester said. "It will heal well, I am certain." He dabbed something on Sandor's forehead, and Sandor felt the gash that bastard had left him with where the salve burned most. _A scar to be added to the others._ His face must be even worse than before but she had looked at him the way she always had. _I was such a bloody fool._ He would tell her tonight if she came. He needed his strength for that and he would not take that wretched milk again, least of all from her. He was no green boy abed with smallpox. _She may not pity me._ He had always hated pity, but from her it was even worse. _Pity is death to desire._ And no matter how vehemently he denied it, he wanted her to desire him, although he did not know why she would.

Sandor felt a twinge of excitement when he thought about the night. Judging by the position of the sun, a pale disc at the grey sky, it was noon. _Many hours still._ He would sleep now, then he'd be awake later. She was right, the earlier he was able to get up again, the better.

Slowly, he rose his head. Pain tore through him but he sat up. His ribs were bad, but worse were the gash on his neck and the wound on his leg, he judged. This was the worst he had been injured since Gregor had pressed his face in the red hot embers.

Sandor tested his leg and almost bit off his tongue. No, he was in no fit state to get up.

"Oh, by the Gods, Ser. Lie down!" The maester hurried over to his side.

"Call me 'Ser' again, boy, and you'll sport the same wounds." Sandor growled and the young man busied himself with potions and bandages. He was indeed half a boy, there was a bit of fuzz on his upper lip and chin but no more than a boy at twelve had.

When he was done, he bowed without looking him in the eye and left the room. He did not call him 'Ser' again. Sandor let his head sink back on the pillow. Just sitting up had exhausted him and he fell asleep quickly.

 **~o~**

She came to him that night, with her hair loose and rosey cheeks, like a maiden on her wedding day. She knelt down by his bed again, caressed his cheek, his neck, where no steel had bitten into his flesh.

She was delighted that he could talk again.

"Listen, swan." He said, held her hand and stopped her from drawing lines on his skin. It distracted him. "I meant to come to you that night." He was uncomfortable admitting it. "Was about to apologise when those bastards came upon me,out of nowhere." It still made him angry that they had met him so unprepared.

She shook her head. "No, you have every right to be angry. BUt Gregor's not dead, I meant to tell you yesterday." _No, maybe not, but he's not alive either._ He did not say it though. He had wasted enough of their time with his brother.

"I was a bloody fool." he insisted and suprisingly, she smiled.

"You want to be my Florian, is that it?" It was an effort to lighten the conversation and he accepted the fit occasion gratefully.

"Will you sing to me now?" he grinned.

"If I remember correctly, Jonquil never sang to Florian." She blushed and he knew why. _No, she let him fuck her._ He didn't say it though, not here with her almost in his bed.

"No, he spied on her and her sisters. A great romance, all agree."

"I fear I can't serve with sisters." She chuckled.

"Sisters? Seven hells, you're more than a handful by yourself." She nudged him in the ribs so softly that he hardly noticed the touch.

"Oh, admit it, you would have been bored spitless all those years without me." She meant it as mockery but it wasn't. _I would not be here anymore without her._ He was not someone to think about missed chances but now, he found himself wondering what would have happened had he chosen to leave, that night during the battle. _She'd be in Highgarden, surely, or Sunspear, or some other great town, married to a lord._ And he'd be in some winesink, no doubt, drowning his pain and boredom in wine.

"I'd have enjoyed the calmth, no doubt." he said instead. She did not reply and he could sense that she felt uneasy.

Her smile was troubled and Sandor braced himself for what would inevitably come. She was saying goodbye.

She did not look at him when she mumbled the words.

"They said you were on your way from some whorehouse. I know I can't-" It was not what he had expected, but it was just as bad. Red hot anger grabbed his bowels with iron fists, it dulled out the pain.

"I wasn't. They're bloody liars, all of them. I was -" No, he could not tell her about Jaime's hand. It was not his secret to share although soon enough, everyone would know.

"I can't tell you but I wasn't in a brothel, girl." He knew that it was a feeble story and he saw that she did not believe him.

"I haven't been -" How could he possibly admit this? That he had stopped for her. His pride pressed on his lungs as heavy as lead, made it hard for him to say what he had to say. The words sounded forced. "I wasn't there in ages, girl."

She did not make him say more.

"He is a liar, I know he is." she said, as keen to change the topic as he was.

"What did the maester say?" She still looked at her fingers. _She is ashamed that she asked._ Seven hells, he _would_ kill that old man.

"Much but nothing useful." He snorted. "It will heal. I should drink that bloody milk-" She raised an eyebrow. "No need to look at me like that, swan, I'm no green boy on his sick bed."

The look she gave him was not one of pity but amusement. "All men are fools and all men are green boys sometimes."

"Is that what you've come for, to insult me?" he asked with feigned annoyance.

"Oh, that most of all." She brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, looked at him.

"That will scar." Her fingers did not touch his forehead.

"Not much to destroy there, is it?" he asked sourly.

The blade had cut through burnt flesh mostly.

She said nothing to that. ' _I thought that your face was not handsome...but that I preferred it over those of Jaime, and Renly, and Loras Tyrell, over all other face I knew.'_ he remembered her words and realised that she didn't mind. _One scar more or less, she does not care. She does not see._ She was utterly mad, surely, a fool and blind, but he was not about to set that right.

"You know, Frenken is not so bad and perhaps you should-" she started again, worry on her eyes.

"No." That put an end to that discussion. His head was throbbing by now, so was his leg and neck. He wanted her here, he was already dreaded the morning, as he had before, but he would not listen to this. It was not the first wound he had taken and he would not lie in bed like some crone with a shattered hip, babbling about her pain and ointments.

"Something else, swan." he said, more peaceably, remembering that he should be kneeling and begging her forgiveness. _I couldn't._ It was good she did not dwell on it.

She sat down on the bed beside him, the mattress lowered as she did. He could look her in the face now without having to turn his head. Her persepective was an unfamiliar one as well, she looked down at him. The candlelight softened her features even more, it made her eyes look greener and her lips redder. She leant over to him a little, her hair brushed against his skin, he felt the warmth of her body through his blanket.

Her hair tickled his bare skin when she rested her head against his shoulder, careful not to hurt him. Her smell was in his nose again, and the touch was welcome albeit unfamiliar. _How can I ever go back to staring at her blankly after this?_ There was a closeness between them now that had not been there before.

"Cersei's making mischief again." she whispered, changing the topic as he had asked her to. "It is Margaery she wants."

 _The little flower._ Of course. The Lannister woman was no one who sat and watched while her apples were stolen and the girl already had the duckling's love, as once Aliena had had the boy king's. But this girl did not use it quite so cleverly. _But_ s _he won't be visited by him in the night, she won't have to hide her bruises._

Swan was stronger than her, and more single-minded. He liked that about her, although he did not like the ways with which she achieved what she wanted. _It were her lies that saved me._ That did not succeed in making him feel much better about it though.

"Will she get her?" _Will you meddle?_ In truth, he didn't give a wet shit for that girl or the queen, but he had already forced her to find another topic once. It did not matter so much what they talked about, he couldn't concentrate on it anyway.

Her head lay on his shoulder now, she was closer to him than ever. He thanked his body for being too tired or too drugged to respond to her closeness. Her breasts touched his side, she was pressed against him, her hair was sprawled out over his arm and the sheet, black against the white linen. This was better than any dream. He felt her breath hot against his neck, it tickled him pleasantly.

"I don't know yet. I think not." She said this so matter of factly. _She will meddle._

"You better don't go back to that old man, girl." The septon was not one to trust and she might not come back out again unscathed.

"Or ?" She had lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were always most beautiful when she was angry.

"Not sure whether you noticed but I'm in no fit state to fight that bastard again."

"I would never ask for trial by combat. I would never ask someone else to fight my battle."

The meaning of her words did not escape him.

"So you'll go back? Have you taken leave of your wits?" He asked, stunned and filled with impotent anger that she was so stubborn once again.

"No, have you? Of course I will go back. If I don't, they will think I'm hiding something, that I'm guilty. But I don't. I'm innocent. I confessed my fornication with Joff-" As always, it stung when she said the boy's name with so much familiarity but the rest stung even more. _Fornication? It was rape, right in front of me, behind the door._

"He raped you." Sandor forced the words out between clenched teeth.

Her eyes were hard.

"His High Holiness thinks it is my fault for tempting him so and I cannot completely disagree. When you play with fire, you get burned-" She pulled a face when she noticed what she had said. "You know what I mean. But yes, our good septon thinks it is my fault for women are wicked by nature. But I confessed my sins and atoned." _If they touched her…_ She read his expression clear enough. "No, not like that. I prayed, and I washed dirty feet, more than I can count, but they never harmed me." _Yet._ It was pure folly to go back. She had shrieked in horror when the blade had hit him on the brow, he had heard her and seen the septon's look.

"He is dangerous."

"I know he is. But I am still in love with Joffrey, everyone knows, some say I am obsessive even in my mourning. And do not forget: I am his little spy. He uses me to get information, and he will not take me into custody. He would like to, no doubt, listen to all the sins I would confess under duress. But he needs me. And he is as sharp as a razor blade. He knows that I have many friends amongst his own brothers and sisters, that he is new and all his power derives from his beggar army, many of whom adore me. He knows that he has appeared with me publicly too often to strike against me now. He washed feet with me, gave out alms and bread so often, praised my piety and faith. And suddenly, he has me arrested? No. He likes he power well and he knows he might lose it by trying to strike me. I am safe from him for now. And I have things to do and lies to tell." She gave him a queer lopsided smile.

 _She has a gift for this._ The queen trusted her, the little rose was her friend, the septon was depending on her, the smallfolk loved her. It was a web of services and sympathies, one supported by the other. _She is not incapable of defending herself._

"Are you not sick of this?" he asked, because he was. He was fed up with all these lies, the queen and her wildfire temper. The hypocrite in the sept. He was sick of this room, his white cloak, sick of his _brothers_ , the maester, everyone but her.

"Oh, very." she replied, with a sad smile. He believed her. This was no longer the place it had been under the drunk king and her safety net had holes, she was aware of that. _She stays for something, and then she will leave._ She was not the type to stay on a sinking ship. _Will she tell me though, will she take me with her?_ He wasn't sure whether he wanted to know the answer.

She shivered, the hearth was cold and empty, Sandor was no friend of fire in his own chamber, and the sword tower stood on the seaward side where the wind was blowing heavily.

"You should go to bed, swan. You're cold." _Or she could slip under my blanket._ Feverish and wounded, the thought still sent his heart racing.

She shook her head fervently. "No. I don't want to go." There had rarely been sweeter words in his ears. She pulled the blanket over her legs.

"It was you who got me out there in one piece", he acknowledged, mainly to distract himself but also because he owed it to her, but she only snorted.

"In one piece? They're still mopping up your blood. It was my fault that they took you in the first place. I should have warned you. I should have dissuaded the high septon. I should have seen what Cersei was up to, but I was ...preoccupied." _Preoccupied with being angry at me, no doubt._ He had been horrible.

And now she was blaming herself for everything that had gone wrong in the past weeks.

"You could have changed the weather, too, now that you're mentioning it, swan, all that bloody grey. And while you're at it, end the war, as it all seems to be your fault as well." She nudged him in the side but he could see that she was smiling when she laid back down.

Her nose was cold against his neck. He took heart and wrapped his good arm around her shoulders. She did not protest, nor did she go stiff. Gingerly, she laid her fingers on his.

"Will you sing now, or have you only come for the warmth, swan?" he rasped, suddenly feeling awkward.

She turned to face him, her eyes were dark and a smile lurked in the corners of her mouth.

"Six Maidens in a Pool?" she asked, grinning.  
"You'd go beetred, girl." he quipped. "It's up to you." He loved listening to her singing, she had a nice voice, rich and full and not so high.

She kissed him suddenly and he forgot about the song altogether, reached up to brush her long, silky hair back, savoured the taste of her lips. Then she broke away.

"Six maids there were in a spring fed pool…" _I told her she couldn't, she shows me she can._

Sandor was almost certain that she could feel his heartbeat now, ridiculously quick, and hoped she would think it a consequence of his injuries. _I am utterly and completely lost and I savour every moment of it._

She sang on, quietly, as not to wake up Trant or Kettleback, should they be in their sleeping cells, and her eyes were fixed on his. She did not blush much, he granted her that.

"Not bad." he said when she was done.

"You're too kind, Ser." she grinned.

"Careful, swan." he warned her playfully. His gaze went over to the window unwittingly.

The sky outside was no longer black, indigo had bled into it and the stars were not as bright as before. Day came and he knew that she had seen it, too.

"It's almost dawn." She said and they both knew what it meant.

One day, perhaps, she would spend her days with him, too. He wanted nothing more. He would marry her if she wanted, they could have children if she wanted, though he needed only her. _Oh, certainly. You'll find yourself in a bloody sept again before the end of the year, no doubt,_ he thought with bitter sarcasm. It was no good. She might be enough for him but he would never suffice. She had other ambitions. A castle, a lord's chair, a better queen. _She never dreamt of an upjumped kennelmaster's grandson, for sure. A scarred soldier without inheritance or possessions that deserve that name._ He had a suit of armour, a horse, a bag of gold. _I could buy a piece of land somewhere but that would not help me. It is not what she wants._ She would be Lady of the Stormlands, he did not doubt it, and he was no fit husband for a lady. But he was too proud to be some sort of paramour, he could not share her with some grasping lord.

"Are you in great pain?" She had been looking at him and there was worry in her eyes. _She cares for me, truly, whyever._ It made him feel a little better. He had never been one to live in the futre, and he would not start worrying about that now. She was here, and she would be here tomorrow night, if that priest did not lock her up, that was.

"No." He was not lying, he barely felt the pain with her so close to him. Once she was gone though, the fever would take hold of him again and his senses would come back _._

"You know, perhaps-" She would start with that bloody potion again, he knew it.

"Give it a bone." he grunted.

She nodded and got up. The sky outside was purple and ink.

She kissed him lightly on the forehead but he took her face in both hands, ignoring the stab of pain that shot through his arm, and pressed his mouth onto hers. Her lips were soft against his, slightly parted and he felt her giving in, sinking back onto the mattress to be closer to him. Only when there were steps on the stairs did they separate. Sandor heard the boy maester humming.

"Don't worry, swan, you could stay right here and he'd probably not even notice. Behind the door, just sneak out when he's telling me to take the bloody milk, he won't hear you."

She seemed concerned though.

"The hidden door's in the Round Room. What about the other two?"

"Trant's standing guard in front of the holdfast and Kettleback's still in his cups, sleeping it off in some whore's bed." He was harsher about Kettleback than need be, but he did not like the way he looked at her or the way she encouraged him with smiles and whispers. Thankfully, she did not seem to notice his jealousy but hurried over to the far corner of the room.

Frenken came in only moments later, his arms full of bottles.

"How are we today, S-? I see you are awake. Perchance, a spoonful of milk of-" She hurried out and the door fell shut behind her. Surprised, Frenken turned around.

"The wind here is not good at all…" he muttered more to himself as he opened the first vial.

Briefly, Sandor wondered what she would do today. _She has not slept at all._ Tonight, he would tell her to go back earlier. _Tonight…_


	41. Chapter 41

Hey! I'm sorry it took me so long, I was away last weekend and did not have much time to write. I'm not quite sure about my portrayal of the High Septon but here you go.

TheOneKrafter: Thank you! I'm tempted to say that they never will marry, seeing as I'm looking forward to your third chapter! :P

Nyany4: Thank you a lot! I love writing his POV, far more actually than anyone else's. I'm relieved you think so.

Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou: Thanks, me too, actually! I have it all planned out for now but it might change depending on whether George will ever share that damned sixth book with us^^

Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **King's Landing, The Great Sept of Baelor**

 **The High Septon**

"High Holiness?" One of the septas approached, bowing respectfully. That was something he liked, secretly. _There are no secrets we can keep from our Gods._

"Septa Dorella?" He tried to learn their names, all their names. There was truth in a name, the name the Mother had chosen, and power. He himself no longer had one, but he still remembered… _Squib, brat, monkey, spawn._ He had had many names as a child, and more siblings than fingers. None of them would recognise him now. _I have more brothers and sisters now than back then, and I will lead them up the righteous, the godly path._ His mother had never found that path, but he had. _The Gods have shown me the way, they have shown her too but she was blind._ His mother had paid for her sins, but many others had not. Yet.

"It is the Lady Aliena, the king's cousin. She has come to talk to the queen." The septa still cast her eyes down.

 _The young queen._ He had been forced to confine Margaery Tyrell to a cell as she had adamantly refused to admit her sins.

On the day before Maiden's Day had the knight come to him to confess his sins, his carnal knowledge of the young queen. He could not say that he had been surprised, fornication and sinfulness was apparently ruling the royal court. _I will purge this city of everything immoral, and I will not stop at the castle's portcullis._ They had arrested the queen and her cousins, who had been part of the treason as well, but not one of them had admitted her guilt although one of the girls was close. They were all hungry and cold and thirsty. _A bad conscience is troubling indeed._ These four young women were no doubt guilty of lewdness though of fornication, he was not certain. But there was more where they came from, the whole court would have to atone, but it was hard to get hands on those that stayed behind the red castle walls.

The young girl, Aliena, was a convenient tool. She had confessed her fornication with the dead king, she had confessed haughtiness and pride. He had listened, and she had atoned. He was not quite certain of her honesty, and he would like to take her down to the cells of truth, to see her true colours. Once their skins had turned to flesh, once they stood in a puddle of their own blood, they did no longer lie to the Gods, he found. _Pain brings us closer to the Seven who are One. And in sacrifice lies the key to fulfilment._

"I will receive her here."

He was the High Septon. But it had been those that called themselves sparrows that had brought him here, and it was them and his new Faith Militant that he had to rely on. He had risen high but he could fall as well, and he had a divine cause to fight for. For that cause, the girl would prove important, he was certain that the Gods had sent her to him. For now, she would not see the cells of truth. _This queen is young and sinful, but the true evildoer is the other queen._ He had a feeling for this by now, he only needed to look at their faces, young and old, ugly and pretty, look them in the eye to see who they were. _The Gods have given me a gift, I am their tool to purge this country of wickedness and sin._ They had given him the Faith Militant, and they had given him his wits, so that he would use them against those that were faith- and godless. _I am guilty of the sin of pride, to think that I alone am their tool and weapon._ The hair shirt was hard on his skin but the thin lash of the whip would be even harder. He was looking forward to it. _It is pain that purifies the soul, and labour that purifies the body._

"High Holiness." The girl kneeled in front of him and he found once again, that he felt satisfaction. _A hundred lashes for my pride._

"Why have you come, daughter of the Seven?" he asked, and she rose to her feet again.

"I heard you have taken the queen into custody? I vouch for her innocence, High Holiness, for I could never think ill of her."

 _Your opinion is of little importance to the Gods that know all._ Sooner or later, the queen would confess her sins.

"Your trust in her is touching." he replied. "And yet, we are often blinded when it comes to those we hold dear."

He was still not sure about this girl's sentiments for the godless man that had slaughtered seven of his fighting brothers in the holy Sept. _She cried out for him but she never fought for him._ Perhaps it had been the women's weakness. He had always found them squeamish, especially when it came to fighting. _The Seven made women as companions to men._ Men were naturally superior, for protecting their lawful wives and children was their holy duty. Women were wicked by nature, lewd and false, but many of his sisters had overcome their weaknesses to serve the Seven, and others had seen the truth down in the cells, and were now returned to their husbands to serve, obey and love them.

He had not been idle, no, he had served the Seven dutifully since his appointment. Whores had been chastised and chased away, and those men that had resorted to these lewd practices had been punished severely. Adulterers had seen the cells of truth and their own lewdness, they were back now with their families...or most of them were. It sometimes pleased the Gods to take charge of the weakest of them. All this he had done for the Faith and yet, the heart of sin, the root, was the Red Keep, and the golden haired woman.

"Why have you arrested her, High Holiness?" the girl asked guilelessly.

And he explained it to her, the confession of the knight, one of the queen's own household, the conditions the septas had found them and their maidenheads in.

The girl had the audacity to shake her head.

"Many highborn maidens give their maidenhead to horses. It is well known that riding breaks it often. As for the confession...I wonder, which knight was it? Ser Osney Kettleback, perchance?"

 _She is a scheming woman, full of wickedness._

"Will you pray with me tonight?" he asked. She would also bring bread to feed the poor and sweep the stairs of the sept. Perhaps the Gods would forgive her her schemes and betrayals, but he was not optimistic. _It is pain that purifies the soul, and labour that purifies the body._

"I will. And serve with you, if I may, High Holiness."

Yes, she was eager to please the Gods. _So eager that she is surely guilty._

"It was a man of that name." he allowed. "But why is his confession not to be trusted?"

He had hoped to catch her out for once, but she was a step ahead. _I will catch you. I have the Seven's breath in my back._

"I trust no man that claims to have bedded a pretty maiden. All men lie about that, High Holiness, all men I know."

There was some truth to her words, he had to admit, and the man had confessed so readily, almost as if he was proud…

"I shall consider your objections, my lady. You wish to see the queen?"

"Indeed, if I may, High Holiness."

"You may...but you might find her changed. Sin is still strong in her and she refuses to confess. But it will break, evil always yields to good in the end."

"You have not harmed her, I hope? Not on the grounds of such a confession?"

"Women are wicked of nature and weak of moral and body. They are not made to endure what men can endure. But we try to persuade her to confess, for her own good."

The girl only nodded to that but he could sense her disapproval. _She needs to confess more than she has._

He walked with her himself. She had things to tell him, about the old queen. Yes, the woman was lonely since the death of her husband, and yes, there had been knights who had won her favour, a smile, a dance, nothing more, she assured him. Yes, she was close to her twin brother and they often spend hours alone in her chambers but there was no truth to the rumours, she swore. Yes, Her Grace had spoken dismissively about the last High Septon, but she had had no hand in the man's death. No, the girl was sure that the queen had respected her husband, the king, although she had not loved him, although she had threatened him...but she had never meant it.

The girl told him more and more every time she came to pray with him, and he knew much about the old queen now, enough to be certain of her guilt. The girl never noticed what she laid bare, she told him what she knew and it fell to him to piece it together. This girl was no woman, despite her years, she was innocent of lewdness in thought and deed, he was certain, but there were other shadows lurking in her young soul.

They reached the young queen's door.

"I will wait for you in the sept, my lady." he said, and left her alone. Of course, they were not truly alone, she and the young queen. The Gods had their eyes and ears everywhere, and he had to have eyes and ears everywhere, too. _How else can I fulfil the role the Gods have given me in their generosity and kindness?_

 **~o~**

 **Aliena**

She had to be careful here. The tiled floor and simple stone walls had become more dangerous than the rushes and tapestries in the Red Keep. And the High Septon had been warned by her foolish outcry during the rial. She could sense his doubts, his suspicion and wondered whether Sandor had been right. _Perhaps it is folly to venture into the lion's den._ She almost laughed. _I have lived in the lion's den all my life._

Margaery wore a roughspun shift, her hair was tousled and unwashed, her face pale and her lips dry.

"Have you come to take me back? Has the king given the orders?" Her voice was a croak.

Somehow, Aliena had to make her understand that they were overheard.

"Only the Gods have to power to free you, and only you can confess your sins and thereby rescue your soul."

Margaery had always been quick.

"I have not done what they claim. I barely know that man." _Oh, I know. But Cersei knows him far better._ Soon, the man would be tortured and he would not keep his secret for long. _I will have to pay another visit to a cell then. Oh my, it is becoming a habit._

"I know you have not. And yet, they found your maidenhead broken. Was it Joffrey? He forced himself upon me. There is great shame in it, for it was mine own lewdness that seduced him, but there is purity and relief in a confession. You have other sins to confess: Haughtiness and pride, squander and pomposity. I believe that you have not done what this man claims, and many highborn maids have been found broken due to horseback riding. But you are not without sins, Your Grace. Remember that, when you pray to the Seven for the king's help. Pray for wisdom instead, and you will see your sins, and you will wish to confess."

She spoke slowly enough for the girl to understand. She, too, had been denied bread and water, it seemed, and she was weak of body, though not of mind, she hoped.

Slowly, Margaery nodded. "I shall think on your kind words. Tell me, will my good mother come to pay me a visit? I miss her dearly."

"Oh, she has promised to come on the morrow, or perhaps the day after the next."

She still hoped for help from King Tommen but Aliena knew it would not come.

"You would do better to hope for help from the Gods, not from the king, Your Grace."

"I shall pray for guidance." Margaery replied. "I thank you for coming."

Aliena left the young queen's cell and joined the High Septon on the dirty back stairs that almost smelled of rotten food and worse. She was tired of all this, tired of Cersei and her never-ending wildfire ploys, tired of this overly pious grandfather, tired of the schemes and falseness that ruled the capital. She had always enjoyed courtly intrigue, she had loved the game back then when there had been many players, different players. But just like the sun, all the good players had left the lion's den and only Cersei remained. Soon, she would turn the city to ashes.

 _As soon as he is well again, I will ask him._ She had done what Varys had asked her to do. The High Septon would soon act on all the evidence she served him sweetly. With Cersei imprisoned by the Faith, Kevan would come back. She was not sure whether she wanted to know what Varys had in mind for him, but it was nothing good. At some point, Cersei would be free again, and her thirst for revenge could only be quenched with blood, so much that it would turn the Blackwater red. _Disaster._ That was what she had created, in the long term. And from the ashes, the Dragon Queen would build her new capital, she would defeat Cersei and restore the realm to peace, at least that was Aliena's hope. _My only hope._

When she left the sept, it was already getting darker. _Winter is coming._ The Starks were wiped out but for Sansa and the bastard at the wall. _Perhaps it is in her to do what no one else could. Perhaps she should not be dismissed._ Certainly, Littlefinger had different plans for her, bigger plans than Winterfell. _I have to tell_ him _where she is._ She would ask him to go east with her, but she would give him a choice, a choice she had been too jealous, too selfish to give him last time. Even after their nights in her chambers, and in his, she was still uncertain how he would decide but she was looking forward to the night so much that she was almost ashamed of it. _His wounds heal well but he won't be in a fit state to ride and fight in the near future._ Still, they would have to leave before winter came. _It is my fault that he is hurt, my fault that everything is delayed…_ She would not make the mistake again, she would not underestimate the sparrow again. _Perhaps Sandor is right and I should stay away from him._ But he was a new player, an important player, and in order to make sure they were safe, she would have to go although she hated it. _For him, for us._ She would endure, she always had. And tonight, she would be with him again, and forget the troubles of the day for a while.

 **~o~**

"Lady Aliena!" It was Aurane Waters, the handsome bastard of Driftmark and the Queen's Lord Admiral. Tall, lean, silver-haired and long-face, Aliena could not quite understand what the Queen saw in him but it did not matter. The bastard saw something in her, not in Cersei, no matter how often Cersei repeated that the young man was mad with desire for her. _She thinks everyone desires her, and she thinks it makes her invincible._ The truth was that the Queen was getting old. She was not yet fourty but a life of late nights and much wine had made her gain weight around the middle and her complexion was becoming sallow. _Once her beauty is gone, she has lost all her power._ Men followed her only for the prospect of sharing her bed and earning some gold. She was no one who inspired loyalty like Robert or awe and respect and fear like Tywin Lannister. _She does not have to die._ Daenerys would win her throne back but Cersei could become the Lady of Casterly Rock. She would have to hand King's Landing over peacefully though and there was small chance of that. _I will sign her death warrant before long._ It made her feel uneasy. She had served Cersei so long and although she owed her nothing and surely did not love her, it hurt her to betray her so. _For the realm, for him, for me._

"Lord Waters." She smiled and curtsied with measure. He was a bastard after all.

"You have visited the queen?" he asked, for once slipping up.

"Lady Margaery, you mean. Yes, she is very composed and innocent, I am certain."

"Surely. As are her cousins." Aliena knew that Waters himself had become very intimate with sweet Elinor.

"No doubt they are all innocent. How is the queen faring?" Cersei shared a lot with her grand admiral.

"She is of course beyond grief and distress and hopes that no talk will reach the king's youg ears." _No doubt she already told him ten times._

"Of course, that would be terrible...and do irreparable damage to their young relationship. I heard you launched your new dromonds? Are they all manned?"

"They are, my lady. An mpressive fleet. Perhaps you would like to see it for yourself? The cabins are more than luxurious and the hulls are impressive. _Lord Tywin_ is of course most imposing but _Sweet Cersei_ makes up for what she lacks in size with elegance and speed. I always wondered, why was there no ship named after you, my lady?"

"I gave my ship to the dead Lord Renly. He saved King's Landing after all, and he should be remembered as the saviour." _It will help me as his niece to win over the people's hearts._

"As brave as he was, I think a figurehead carved in your likeness would give the sailors more joy." Lord Waters quipped and she rewarded him with a smile.

"Perhaps I should order a figurehead for the dinghy." she smiled and he laughed.

"So, will you do me the honour to show you the ships?" he asked again, persistently. _Of course, Elinor is gone and he must be lonely._ He was also interested in Dragonstone and as a Baratheon, she might inherit that rock in the Narrow Sea.

"Of course. On the morrow, if you wish." she agreed and he was obviously pleased. "Now excuse me, if you will. The queen will be asking for me."

The yards were muddy but her gown was so plain that the mud did not much harm. _He would be a valuable ally for Daenerys. The Velaryons are the Targaryens' loyal supporters of old and she might find him as handsome as Cersei does._ And the bastard had command over some ten massive war dromonds...She would give it a thought.

Now though, she would visit Cersei and report to her. And then, after nightfall...a thrill of anticipation shot through her and she was longing again for his presence, his gruff demeanour that hid his feelings well but not well enough, the bond between them that was stronger now than ever. _Strong enough that he will come with me, hopefully._


	42. Chapter 42

Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou: Thank you for taking the time to review, really, it means a lot to me! Indeed, I really dislike the high sparrow, too!

Nyany4: Yeah, I'm sorry, I'm quite busy with uni and real life (duh) at the moment but I am pretty confident that I can stick to my three updates a week! Ah, that's good, thanks. I'm aware he was not brilliant. I'm new to it but I won't ever be old to it, I fear we might be leaving him to the mess Cersei created soon enough^^ I'm happy you like her POV, she is the only one that's really mine so that's reassuring! As always, I thank you a lot for reviewing!

Dear Guest: I thank you for your review! That would certainly be an interesting storyline, and I'd love to see Sandor as a pirate, but no, I fear that won't happen :D

I'm sorry that these two chapters took me so long, I'm just a busy bee these days and I found it hard to find inspiration for these scenes. I don't promise anything but I _think_ the next ones are going to be better (I have finished parts of them). Still, I hope you'll enjoy this one.

* * *

 **The Great Sept of Baelor, 300 AC**

 **Cersei**

Her cell was damp, cold and dirty, the floor was hard and the thin straw pallet offered no protection, neither from the cold nor from the hard stone. She was thirsty as well. _I have been thirsty all my life, though not for water._ No it was water she dreamt of, cool and soothing, running down her throat. She dreamt of something warm, a shift, a fire perhaps. _They treat me like a beggar. I will burn this building down with all sparrows inside once I'm free again._ She had torn her shift to pieces in her anger and had thrown the jug of water against the wall in fury. Now, she almost wished she hadn't. _All of this would not have happened if I had not been betrayed._ It had been a mistake to trust Kettleback, that useless, spineless creature. _Someone has to tell Jaime._ He would come to save her for sure. He loved her, he desired her. If only someone came…

The door was opened and Cersei braced herself for the septa, but it was the old man. _High Sparrow._ Thin and frail, with a face so unremarkable that Cersei almost forgot it after every visit.

"My septas tell me that you do not wish to confess." he said, in a grave but peaceful voice. Septa Unella always spoke to her in an accusing tone.

"High Holiness, this must be a terrible mistake." Cersei got up although her joints protested like those of an old woman. Standing, she was taller than him. "I am innocent of all the crimes you accuse me of. But if you let me go now, I promise you, by the Gods, I will be merciful." _You'll get t_ _he same mercy Joff showed Ned Stark._

The old man was not impressed in the slightest.

"Only the Gods can give the gift of mercy. And only they can give us insight. Pray for both, Your Grace. You will have need of it."

He turned around to leave but she held onto his sleeve.

"Has the king been informed?"

"He has." The sparrow replied evenly, kindly even. _You do not fool me._ Tommen would not just desert her. She was his mother, she had brought him into this world. _But he is meek, weak._

The old man continued: "But His Grace is wise to allow us to keep you here until this matter is settled. Your niece will come to pay you a visit but no one else may. The Gods will provide you will all the company you need."

 _Aliena._ Yes, the girl was clever. She would get her out of this, the septon was her trained monkey, ate from her palm. She had managed to get the Hound out, an ungodly man if there ever was one, a monster, a murderer. She herself was the Maiden come to flesh in comparison. No, Aliena would not fail Cersei. A wave of affection rushed through her. Her niece, as good as her own blood, not as meek as Tommen, more loyal than Kevan, cleverer than Jaime, and braver as well. _Aliena._ Yes, soon enough would she would sit on her gilded chair again, and rule, as she had been born to. _And then I will dispense justice._

"High Holiness, you are too kind." _He knows nothing, he was blinded by her too. What a fool he is in his roughspun robe, with his dirty peasant feet and his common face._

It did not cost her much to smile at him, for triumph flowed through her veins. Aliena would not fail her. She had always been devoted to her aunt.

 **~o~**

 **Sandor**

The pain was getting better, though it would be long until it faded, but thankfully, Sandor was used to it. Dull pain had been his constant companion for more than two decades. Sandor stretched his legs, his arms. The wound on his thigh was still bad but the other cuts had healed well.

He put both feet on the ground, surprised by the sensation of wood, cold and hard and uneven under his bare feet which had felt nothing but wool and cotton for a while.

The look in the mirror was as painful, as unpleasant, as vexing as it had been before. His face was slightly thinner now, and gaunter than ever but he had insisted on shaving to prevent an odd looking half beard. He was not vain, how could he be, but he did not want to look ridiculous, especially with her. Apart from the enhanced gauntness of his features, he looked quite the same, another scar disfigured him but it was no more than a drop in the ocean.

He dressed quickly, in the white of the Kingsguard, after a moment of hesitation. The wound on his leg had healed well enough and no red bled through the white wool.

It felt good to be back in armour, it felt good to be up again, to be useful again. He was just buckling on his swordbelt when he heard how the door was opened, followed by the sound of breaking glass and splashing liquid.

" _Ser!_ " The young, freckled maester cried in a tone of deep indignation. "The wound has not healed well enough, you need rest."

Sandor snorted. He had rested so much that it was enough for two lives.

"I'll rest enough in my grave, boy." He pulled the buckle straight and walked past the man, not bothering to step around the mess on the floor.

He was already out in the narrow hall when he turned around. This green boy _had_ seen to his wounds after all.

"You're not as bad as the others." he rasped. The boy could take that as he pleased.

Sandor left the White Sword Tower and strode over the lower bailey briskly and without a look to the left or right, past staring guardsmen and whispering ladies, past barking dogs and squealing pigs. Kettleback stood guard at the drawbridge, picking at his nails and leering after young women. His eyes went wide when he saw Sandor but he did not comment on his look.

"Good to see you back up again, brother." The man grinned jovially.

Sandor grunted something unintelligible in response. He had no time for this _sellsword_.

Her rooms were empty so he walked over to the queen's chambers, but she was not there either.

In fact, the queen's rooms were deserted. _They'll all be in the throne room then._ He damned himself for his foolishness, of course she did not spend all day in her bedroom or the queen's parlour.  
His leg was throbbing painfully by the time he came to the serpentine stairs and every step sent a knife through his thigh, but he ground his teeth and walked on.

It was a long way to the throne room, across the middle bailey and the drawbridge, across the outer yard and up the flat sandstone steps that led to the imposing double winged oaken door. He heard her voice before he saw her, it drifted over from the council table at the far end of the half deserted hall. Servants scurried from one side to the other and perhaps two dozen courtiers sat at the lower tables, playing cards or dice.

She stood next to the throne in a dress of red wool and spoke intently to the old maester whose once imposing beard had been reduced to a few sorry wisps by the imp.

"Bar the gates. Allow no sparrow in, not even one. Send a raven to Ser Kevan and offer him the position of Hand of the King. Let His Grace sign the letter. A letter must be sent to Dorne as well, Princess Myrcella is to return immediately and Ser Balon is to cease from hunting down that Dayne knight, write to him and tell him that no one expects him to complete his task, only that Myrcella should be brought home safely. I hope that you, grand maester, will resume your position on the small council. Your wisdom is of invaluable importance in these trying times."

The maester bowed. Sandor had not quite reached them and she stood with her back to him.

"As you say, Y- my lady." The old man's voice was as thin as his beard.

"In these trying times, we have to stick together. I do hope that over time, you will be able to arrange yourself with Lord Qyburn. The maester of whisperers is never loved well but he deserves respect, as a member of the council. Call Lord Waters and Lord Merryweather, if you would, grand maester, and Ser Harry Swift. The small council has to decide how this should be answered. I will join you, if you allow."

Her voice was stronger now, or perhaps it only appeared to be to him who had heard only her whispers over the last fortnight. Her tone was commanding but respectful, although there was no room in it for doubts or objections. _The tone of a ruler._

The maester bowed again. "I shall, my lady. The small council will gather and decide. Who will be ruling Hand until Lord Kevan answers your summon?"

" _Your_ summon, grand maester." she corrected him. "He will hardly come here on the invitation of a mere woman. I suggest that we leave the post vacant. He shan't be long, two day rides from King's Landing at the most."

Now, the grand maester saw Sandor. Disapproval was plain on his face but he nodded at him.

"It was beyond time. The most noble Kingsguard reduced to only two men…"

The old man turned back to Aliena. "I shall write the letters, my lady, when shall the small council gather?"

Aliena turned around, looked at Sandor as she spoke, and he found the hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"In an hour."

The old man took only small steps, the 'clonk' of his cane rang through the hall rhythmically. _Move, you bloody fool, or I'll see you out._ It took him half a century to leave them alone.

"Are you feeling better?"

The command voice was gone and she was whispering again, in a voice filled with concern. Some courtiers stared over at them with interest but they gave them no reason for suspicions.

"Good enough." he rasped in reply.

"Are you not up too soon? Frenken said-"

He really hated being mothered but it was also touching that she cared.

"Rather too late, it seems. Where's the old queen?" he asked. The golden chair was empty, the throne as well.

"The High Septon took her into custody." For a moment he thought he saw satisfaction in her eyes but it was gone before he could be certain. "Is your leg-" she started but he interrupted her.

"You're not my wet-nurse, swan, I'm bloody fine." He was too loud, he noticed it himself.

People had turned around.

To his surprise, she only nodded.

"Walk with me, Clegane." she said. _I shouldn't have shouted at her._

She walked in front of him, her head held high and he tagged after her, the faithful dog, ill-tempered, angry. _Is this what she wants them to see?_

The hall had been half-empty but the yard was completely deserted. Somehow, in two weeks, half the court seemed to have vanished. It was even more pitiful than it had been during the other boy's reign.

She waited until a stable boy had pushed off, until a milkmaid was out of sight and earshot.

"I am not sure whether my chambers are still safe." she said, slowly. "I am quite sure no one knows about-" she left it hanging in the air.

"Are you well enough to ride? To travel?" She would finally leave this hell of a city.

 _No, but I'll come with you anyway._

"I am." He had ridden and travelled in a worse state.

She nodded, relieved. "Good." She waited again while a serving girl walked past them, making a dry remark about the cool weather, as if they were having a casual chat. Then she continued, hesitantly.

"I will leave tonight. There is nothing I can do anymore and I am sick of this." She smiled again, though uncertainly. "Before I ask you to come with me, I must tell you something though, something I did not tell you before because-" She swallowed. "Sansa Stark is in the Vale, the Eyrie. Or rather, the Gates of the Moon now, with Littlefinger. You wanted-" She did not finish her sentence once again, but he knew what she meant. _I wanted to go and take her with me that night but would have left you behind, that's what you think._ She had got it all wrong but he could not tell her how weak, how pitiful he had been.

"I know." he replied and gathered his courage. "But what you don't know, what you don't understand, swan, is that I went back into those bloody flames for you." He forced himself to keep his voice low and his arms close to his sides, although all he wanted was to reach out to her, to kiss the doubts away. "I'll come with you." _If you decided to go to doomed Valyria, I'd only ask 'when are we leaving'._

She searched for something in his eyes for a long moment, and Sandor drowned in hers, he had almost forgotten how beautiful they were by daylight. How beautiful she was.

Perhaps she had found what she had been looking for, for now she nodded.

"I'm glad. Really." She looked at the grey mud between them for half a heartbeat.

"Come to my chambers tonight."

It sounded so much like an immoral suggestion that he had to grin and bite back a bawdy remark.

"Evenfall?" he asked. "Two horses, provisions, gold?" He did not know how far she had planned.

She laughed lightly, sweetly, like a breeze in the leaves.

"Don't forget the wine." she grinned. _I have found something better to get drunk on now._

"Not bloody likely." He grinned back. "We should leave right before the changing of the guards. They'll be eager to get drunk and fucked and will conveniently forget everything suspicious." He had expected her to smile, to blush, to agree, but not this.

Discomfort was plain on her face. "I cannot just disappear. I had hoped that you might not object to playing that role you play so well for only a bit longer." _The monster._ Sandor understood.

"I'm abducting you." He did not like deception much but he saw that it was necessary, wise.

"Yes." She looked at her shoes.

"Girl, I care not two - figs for what they think. I'll make preparations." It was better this way anyway. She was cleverer than him, certainly, but she was inexperienced when it came to rough survival.

"Thank you." She smiled sadly. "I am sorry though. No one should think of you like that. But ... Cersei's love for me it not great enough to follow us. Her wrath though… If she finds out that I betrayed her, she will be blind with rage and she will burn every single woman on the face of this world to make sure that I pay."

There was truth in that but he needed neither apology nor explanation.

"It's fine, swan." He replied, longing once again for the touch of her skin. He was relieved, overjoyed to leave for it meant the end of all this hide and seek. _Perhaps it means an end to all this, too._ There was still the small nagging suspicion that she used him like she used every man. _I might find out soon enough...but does it really matter?_ He had made his decision a long while ago.

"I'll have everything ready by evenfall." he rasped.

"I can't wait." She gave him a shy smile, a faint one only, but it was enough to make him feel dizzier than he ever had from the boy maester's potions. _I'm fucked._ But in the best way.

 **~o~**

 **Aliena**

"The Queen has been arrested by the High Sparrow."

Moon Boy had given the old man that ridiculous name and the fine ladies and lords at court used to laugh at him, safe behind the high walls of the keep. Now though…

"He arrested _Her Grace_?" Aliena feigned shock. Lord Qyburn was small, slight, grey, with dark eyes.

"It seems so, my lady." He repeated his words patiently.

"How can he? He cannot-" She was babbling nonsense. "Send guards, A hundred."

"Guards cannot help her, my lady, for there are thrice as many sparrows in the city as there are gold cloaks, and ten times as many as there are loyal gold cloaks."

 _A hundred times as many. And who gave them their spears and swords and bows?_

"How is she? Have they-" Her voice broke but the man seemed unmoved by her weakness. _He as tough as old leather and as untrustworthy as thin ice._ Cersei had been mad to name him master of whisperers, mad to name him anything but a lunatic.

"They have not harmed her."

She nodded. "Thank the Gods for that at least. Of course...the small council. Someone must-"

"May I suggest that you speak to the members, my lady?" He said with a weak smile. "I am regarded as untrustworthy, I fear."

 _And I wonder why._

"Me? No. I cannot. I must go to see Her Grace-"

"Tonight you may, the High Septon has allowed. Only you may go, my lady, no one else."

"I will. Bread for the poor must be prepared, and food for Her Grace. And some gold. I will hand it out to those in need in Her Grace's name. Perhaps she can win some of those sparrows over with benevolence."

There were loud doubts in the old man's eyes but he did not lend his tongue to them. "As you wish."

"My poor aunt. She is a lioness, not made for captivity." Aliena shook her head. "What is it that they accuse her of?"

For the first time, the man showed a sign of discomfort. "Lewdness, fornication, murder, treason."

" _No._ It cannot be. Someone lied. She would never- treason? The punishment for treason is-"

"Death, indeed, my lady."

"They cannot. They cannot." She repeated those words like a prayer.

"They will not...for now. My birds tell me that Ser Osney told certain tales…"

"An untrustworthy sellsword. I will say the truth. I will. And you must, too, and your little birds. Like Varys did at the trial. With notes and evidence."

Softly, the man put a hand on her shoulder. It was surprisingly small but hard. She almost recoiled from his touch. _What he has touched, what he has done with these hands._ A shudder of disgust went through her but she hoped her would misinterpret that.

"I will do for Her Grace what I can. And so must you. Someone must lead, someone who is the queen's friend. You may not allow that grey sheep Pycelle to take over."

She nodded, slowly. "I will send for the queen's uncle, her own blood."

"A good notion, my lady."

"Thank you, Lord Qyburn. And for your trust." She smiled weakly, put on a brave show. _Soon all this will be over, a bad aftertaste no more._

Lost in thoughts, she hurried over to the throne room where she would no doubt find Pycelle at the council table.

The maester was shocked at first when he heard the news, it seemed, but satisfaction took over quickly. Cersei had taken all the power he had left and now, she was gone.

He rose ponderously to his feet.

"That is an outrage indeed, my lady. What shall be done?" he asked. _Why are they all asking me? They should be so hungry for power that they stumble over their own feet just to be the first to get their hands on the throne's blades and Tommen's seal._

"Bar the gates. Allow no sparrow in, not even one. Send a raven to Ser Kevan and offer him the position of Hand of the King. Let His Grace sign the letter." Then she would have fulfilled Varys' plans. "A letter must be sent to Dorne as well, Princess Myrcella is to return immediately and Ser Balon is to cease from hunting down that Dayne knight, write to him and tell him that no one expects him to complete his task, only that Myrcella should be brought home safely." Balon would read that clear enough. She hoped intently that he would have the sense to return to Stonehelm under the pretense of a visit to his fragile father. "I hope that you, grand maester, will resume your position on the small council. Your wisdom is of invaluable importance in these trying times." _And I also need someone who does not care a fig for Cersei._ He would see to it that Cersei remained with the High Septon until Ser Kevan's arrival.

"As you wish, my lady." The old man nodded gravely.

She gave further commands, all of which he took with a grave nod and not a single objection. Then she saw his eyes darting to something or someone behind her. She was about to turn around but the expression of disapproval mixed with fear and reluctant respect was one she knew well. _He is up again._ It took all her willpower not to ruin everything now.

"It was beyond time. The most noble Kingsguard reduced to only two men…" The maester muttered and then turned back to her. She gave a last command, or perhaps she said something else entirely, she just wanted the old man to leave, finally.

He did as he did everything, ponderously and slow, with exaggerated fragility.

Slowly, she turned around, controlled. He wore his Kingsguard attire again though it did not suit him any better than it had before. His face was thinner, there were shadows under his dark grey eyes and the gash on his forehead was still an angry red line. He did not show a sign of pain though. _He'd hide it, from me most of all._

"Are you feeling better?" she asked breathlessly.

"Well enough." His rasp was cool and even, dark and hostile, as always. Even the corner of his mouth twitched. _He has not changed at all._ It disappointed her a bit, she reluctantly admitted, she had hoped that he would find it just as hard to contain himself as she did. _He is different. And perhaps he just doesn't-_

"Are you not up too soon? Frenken said-" It was more of a way to distract herself from unwelcome thoughts but his mouth grew thin.

"Rather too late, it seems." He rasped coolly. "Where's the old queen?" _The old queen. Cersei wouldn't like that title at all._

"The High Septon took her into custody." _Just as planned._ But it was not Cersei that worried her. They would have to leave soon and he had to be healthy. _Why does he always have to be so damn stubborn?_ "Is your leg-" she started but he interrupted her.

"You're not my wet-nurse, swan, I'm bloody fine." His tone was sharp now, a voice like a saw on raw steel, the voice that sent grown men running and made children cry.

People had turned around. They had not heard what exactly he had said, but they sensed tension like sharks smelled blood. _They love it, the gossip, the intrigue, the quarrels._ Yes, they would love to gossip about this here. _Perhaps it is not so bad._ Sandor would have to play the role of the monster once again. _He won't mind, but I do._

"Walk with me, _Clegane._ " She strode out of the hall, ever the king's niece until they reached the middle of the yard, as much out of earshot as possible these days. Even the godswood was full of spies, although these were not Varys's, not loyal but paid for and corrupt, untrustworthy. _So that Varys can feed them what he wants Qyburn to know._ Aliena was unsure how much power Varys had left here in the capital, but she knew better than to underestimate the spider.

She was nervous as they talked, very nervous. She would ask him now, tell him what she had hidden from him out of jealousy and fear, fear that he would leave her alone.

 _He deserves to know._

"Before I ask you to come with me, I must tell you something though, something I did not tell you before because-" She swallowed. "Sansa Stark is in the Vale, in the Eyrie. Or rather, the Gates of the Moon now, with Littlefinger. You wanted-"

 _You chose her over me that night, do you remember?_ There was a lump in her throat and green jealousy in her stomach, jealousy and a miserable anxiety that made her angry. _I have become utterly dependent. Me, of all people._ It was a bad joke. The silence stretched to an eternity. Why did he not reply? Was he angry? Perhaps, and could she fault him? She had hidden the truth from him.

"I know." he replied and that confused her. What did he know? "But what you don't know, what you don't understand, swan", he continued in a low, urgent rasp as he stared down at her as if he could will her to understand with his gaze alone, "is that I went back into those bloody flames for you." Her heart jumped in her chest. She had never considered this. _Perhaps he never chose her over me._ It was true, he had returned, to the flames, and then to her.

"I'll come with you." It was a statement that needed no reply, that allowed no doubts, strong and decisive.

 _We'll go together._ They would spend their days together, not only their nights. She looked at him, searched for doubts or anger but found only determination...and perhaps something else.

"I'm glad. Really." She looked at the grey mud between them for half a heartbeat, now that this was settled, she was excited, thrilled to leave.

"Come to my chambers tonight." she whispered, and became suddenly aware of the double meaning. _Not like that._ she almost added but he was already grinning so she didn't.

When he looked at her like this, amusement on his lips, his eyes soft as fog and enticing, she found it hard not to take a step towards him, not to caress his cheek, his neck, feel the odd texture of his burned skin underneath her own smooth skin, feel his lips rough and hard and dry under hers, feel his body next to hers, always warm and strong.

"Evenfall?" he asked. "Two horses, provisions, gold?" He was already planning ahead and she was thankful for it. He was experienced when it came to this sort of trip, rough nights in the saddle, bread and wine from a wineskin.

"Don't forget the wine." She smiled and he laughed.

"Not bloody likely." He grinned back. "We should leave right before the changing of the guards. They'll be eager to get drunk and fucked and will conveniently forget anything suspicious."

 _It won't be quite so easy. Just sneak out and be gone._

She did not like what followed but it would help neither her nor him if they were caught. "I cannot simply disappear. I am sorry, truly but I fear the only way is that you play your role only a night longer." _The monster._

"I'm abducting you." He was sharp and quick and mercilessly to the point.

"Yes" It felt even worse stating it so plainly.

"Girl, I care not two - figs for what they think." He laughed as if she had made a jest. "I'll make preparations."

He put an end to that discussion.

"Thank you." She smiled sadly. "I am sorry though. No one should think of you like that. But Cersei's love for me it not great enough to make her persevere in following us. Her wrath though… If she finds out that I betrayed her, she will be blind with rage and she would burn every single woman on the face of this world to make sure that I pay."

He hoped that he would understand. Even in the east there were those who dreamt of fucking the queen and they did not care whether she had been accused of fornication and lewdness and treason. And if that queen should ask for her head, and that of a burnt man, well, their lives would be more dangerous for sure.

"It's fine, swan." He replied, composed. "I'll have everything ready by evenfall."

"I can't wait." She really couldn't. They were doing this together, it was not only about the time they would spend together, no they had to stick together now, one life was linked to the other.

 **~o~**

Before evenfall she had a small council meeting to attend though, and preparations to see to, appearances to keep up.

"My lords." Most of the tall iron and gold chairs with their intricately carved backs were unoccupied. Pycelle sat on the chair closest to the throne, Harry Swift at the far end looked shocked but his bulging eyes gave him a look of perpetual surprise anyway so Aliena was not quite certain. Qyburn had seated himself as far from Pycelle as possible.

"Where are Lord Merryweather and Lord Waters?" She feigned confusion.

"My lady, I fear Lord Merryweather and his young wife fled to Longtable this morning already. Lord Waters has fled as well, just after noon, and he took all the dromonds, fully manned."

Qyburn's voice betrayed no emotion, there was a faint hint of sorrow perhaps, otherwise nothing. _He looks like a kindly grandfather but he is as cold as a fish and utterly unscrupulous._

" _All_ the dromonds?! Fled? How dare they! They were the queen's advisors and owed her everything they had!" She exclaimed with all the indignation she could muster.

"Nothing is so hard as man's ingratitude." Pycelle sighed ponderously. "But those who remain are loyal to Her Grace and the council has been purged of those that are fickle and weak." _He talks as if he learned some old book by heart._

"Wise words, grand maester. I trust you have sent a raven to Ser Kevan?"

"Indeed I have, my lady." He nodded again, looked around to find approval. "I have written and sent all the letters you commanded me to write."

"The queen will thank you for your support, no doubt. I will go and see her tonight. Of course I still think it would be wise to make sure that no word of those false accusations gets out. Some of it will stick, no doubt unjustly, but I feel that we owe it to our queen to defend her in her absence, more than ever."

Harry Swift was the one who nodded now. _Gods, she has a puppet show, no council._ A ruler without council was weak but a ruler with a council of lickspittles that supported every far fetched plan, every fevered notion, confirmed every small suspicion, that ruler was not only weak but also dangerous. _There is no balance._

"I will take food for the poor and clothing for Her Grace. I will also try to convince His High Holiness of her innocence. He is a stern man so I have not much hope but I am certain that he will relent when he sees the truth." She smiled again.

"Grand maester, Lord Qyburn, Ser Harry. You are the queen's most trusted councillors. I am positive that she can count on you in these trying days."

Harry Swift nodded eagerly. Pycelle started another sermon on his enduring loyalty to House Lannister. Lord Qyburn was the only one who looked her in the eye.

"I owe Her Grace my life and more. She gave me … opportunities I could not dream of. I am loyal to her." _That one is the only one in the keep that I still have to fear._ Apart from him, the rest could as well have been trained monkeys, it would have made no difference.

"So do I. She raised me, she taught me, she protected me. I shall not let her down."

Aliena rose from her chair, not the Hand's chair but one of the smaller ones at the table's long side.

"Thank you, my lord."

This had been as ineffective as a meeting in the pig barn but at least she had played her part.

The sun was a bright red disk above the western horizon, the shadows were long and dark as she walked from the throne room to the holdfast, pulling her cloak tightly around her. The wind had freshened, and rain had turned to hail over the past few days. _It won't be long until the first snow falls._

Her chamber was ice cold, the maid had forgotten to poke the fire and it had gone out. _They may interrogate her, for all I care._ Aliena thought with a flight of anger.

It was better this way though, the girl was gone and she had time to pack her things.

The gown she wore now was scarce richer than what a servant would wear but Kenna had acquired some peasant gowns weeks past. All linen or warm wool, practical and easy to put on alone.

She folded them neatly and put them in the saddlebag, together with smallclothes, woolen stockings, a cloak lined with fur, leather and fur gloves, a headband of wool and a scarf so big that it would almost swallow her head. She walked over to her dresser, and emptied her jewellry draw into a small pouch. She left the draw where it was.

A fat purse was already in the pocket of her gown, provisions and sweet Arbor wine in the other bag. She had sent for tarts and bread buns, for cheese and apples this morning for breakfast. There was nothing left to do now apart from running up and down frantically and wondering whether she had forgotten something. The hunting knives she had from Joffrey were hidden in her riding boots, the only shoes she had that did not have high heels. They were comfortable enough and warm, she hoped. The bearskin cloak she wore these days would accompany her as well, she had not put in so much effort to freeze on the way.

It was full dark now. The candleabrum on the dresser by the window bathed the room in dim golden light but left the far corners in the dark.

He entered without knocking. He wore his kingsguard cloak but had abandoned the white breeches and doublet in favour of warmer garb.

"Are you ready?" he asked in his usual low, gruff rasp.

"More than ready."


	43. Chapter 43

**So this is the updated, not so explicit version that I am far more comfortable with! I thank those two guests that left reviews. I completely understand your criticism. I think I was just influenced by a lot of Sandor fics that include this kind of stuff. Thanks!**

 **Nyany4:** Thank you a lot for your feedback, I thought it was super obvious actuallly :D (No, we're leaving, I have run out of intrigues here and there's a lot going on elsewhere at the moment!)

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou:** Thank you a lot for your review! I am so happy that you find this interesting. :)

 **TheOneKrafter:** Thank you so much for reviewing! Yeah, I share that feeling...^^

* * *

 **That same night**

 **~o~**

 **Aliena**

Together, they made their way down the winding staircase, deserted at this time of the night.

Before they walked out over the drawbridge, he closed his fingers around her arm. His grip was tight and his face grim as they walked past Meryn Trant. The man stared at them with droopy, red eyes.

"Where you going?" His speech was slurred. _He is drunk but suspicious._

"The girl is to visit her aunt. The queen's held captive in that bloody sept, in case you didn't notice." Sandor rasped coolly.

"And what is that?" Trant gestured at the saddlebag.

The man was unusually astute tonight, she noticed with dismay.

"You think she wants to eat that rotten bread and drink the stale piss they serve her there?"

Sandor gave her a gentle push. "Go, girl."

Trant gave them a last suspicious look, then he left them in peace.

"Bloody bugger." Sandor muttered under his breath. "Got his droopy eyes wide open for the first time in a decade."

They managed their way to the stables unmolested. Stranger was already saddled but Syrax was white and barebacked. She grasped the truth before he said it aloud.

"You can't take that one, girl." His voice was unusually soft. "She's not as quick as she used to be, her colour will give us away and no one will believe that I allowed you to take that horse."

Aliena knew that he was right but it was still hard.

"Robert gave her to me." The tears came now but it was so dark that he could not see them, or so she hoped.

"I know."

A second horse had been saddled, a lovely young bay mare, quick and energetic. Its dark brown fur shone in the light of a few torches.

 _She will be happier here anyway. She really is old, too old for such a long journey and the stable boys like her well._

The horse wickered quietly as Aliena stroked her long white neck. _A swan's horse indeed._

She was not one to talk to animals but this horse was the last piece of her childhood and it hurt terribly to let go of her. She had been her only comrade in lonely days, her only friend when she had had only Joff to play with.

"Farewell, old friend." She had horse hair in her mouth now and her old mare's smell in her nose. Syrax whickered again.

As a child, she had often wished her filly was a dragon with wide white wings and pale golden flames. _She would outlive me if she were one._ But there were no dragons in the west and the time had come to say goodbye.

Quickly, she fastened the bags to the young bay mare's supple leather saddle and, after a moment of hesitation, she took one of her uncle's many light Dornish bows and a quiver full of arrows.

"We should leave." She hoped he could not hear her tears.

"Yes." he led Stranger out of the stable. In the yard, he turned around to her.

"Whatever happens, girl, you will ride on. Don't stop. The streets are not safe for the likes of you." She was about to remark on how she made it over to the sept unmolested while he had been attacked and captured, but she let it slip. She got his point but that did not mean she would do as he asked.

"If you think I'll leave you behind, you'd better think again."

He looked at her for a moment, weighed whether it would be fruitful to start a discussion. He decided against it.

"We ride north first, then south, following an arm of the Blackwater." His rasp was low, a whisper almost, so that she had to lean over to him to understand. _He has thought this through._ Far better than she could have. They would need to ride through the water for a while..

"So that your brothers don't betray you?" She gave him a lopsided smile and he returned it.

"Dogs are loyal to their masters and their mates, but not to their kind." He shrugged. "They will think I take you to Stannis for a fat ransom."

"My uncle, yes. The true king." She gave a short sharp laugh. "All you'd get from him is a noose and I'd get some dark tower cell no doubt. But they all think you lost your mind."

It hurt to say it aloud. It hurt even more because it was her fault.

"The mad dog and the innocent swan. The songs they'll sing for us in the winesinks." He grinned, did not seem to be even slightly bothered by this slander. _I am anxious but he is overjoyed._ It was euphoria that spoke from him, so relieved was he to leave this city behind.

"We better go now, girl."

The night was full black now, the moon was a weak sickle that disappeared behind dark clouds from time to time. Only a few stars dotted the sky. _The darkness protects us._ But it could also work against them…

She was anxious as they mounted and left through the main gate, with heads held high, telling the guards the same story as Trant. They both nodded, these two were still scared of the Hound. _Perhaps he is right and it will all go smoothly._ She was too used to things going wrong though to truly believe it. Ever since Robert's death things had rarely gone as planned.

They had decide to take Aegon's Road that led past Visenya's Hill and the Great Sept, all over to the Gate of the Gods.

It was the main road between the keep and the gate but deserted at this time of the night for there were no inns, no whorehouses, no winesinks on this most noble street. It led through the cobbler's square and past the shops of finer seamstresses and dressmakers, all dark and lifeless in the night. The trickiest part was the Great Sept where begging brothers prayed even at night. It was cold now though, and most of them would pray high up on the hill, on the steps of the sept and not at the foot of the hill, at least Aliena hoped so.

All went well, they rode swiftly through the dark street, spoke to no one and made it even past the sept. The gate was not far when two sparrows appeared all of the sudden.

"The Seven protect you." One said.

"Where are you going?" The other asked, guilelessly. "The sept is behind you."

Sandor gave a short, rasping bark of laughter.

"Tell me something I don't know, boy." He dismounted. "I spent quite some time there." Even Aliena felt the hairs on her arms standing up, a cold shiver ran down her back.

"You better tell those bloody Gods of yours that I'm not planning on returning anytime soon."

She saw a silver flash in the darkness, heard the muffled sound of muted screams, then the soft rustling of two bodies dressed in stiff roughspun sinking to the ground.

Sandor wiped his sword clean.

"That was not necessary." She whispered, more shocked than anything.

"It was." He spurned his horse. "Come on. These buggers rarely walk around alone."

They rode no faster than before, the sound of clattering hooves would draw attention to them, but her heart was still racing in her chest, beating so loudly that she thought someone must hear it. Those two sparros had not meant any harm, surely, and yet, they had been an obstacle. _It was necessary._ She tried to convince herself. But if she was ready to litter her path with dead bodies, she was no better than Cersei. _Those two were his revenge, but it may not happen again._

They finally reached the gate, tall and pale in the darkness of the night, the seven faces of the gods, hewn from sandstone, looked down upon them. 'If you want to feel small, go to the Gate of Gods.' The builder had known his craft indeed.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" The high-pitched voice belonged to a green boy, freckled and red haired, though he already wore the gold of the City Watch. His fellow guard was a stout man in his forties, with a belly bigger than that of a pregnant woman and a shock of greying hair.

"You know me, I think." Sandor rasped. "This is the queen's niece. She has some business out of the city. You better open those bloody gates now."

The old man was about to throw the lever and raise the portcullis but the boy objected.

"We've been told not to open the gates, for no one." His voice had become steadier.

"You've been told to act against orders of a Kingsguard, is that it, boy?" There was anger in Sandor's rasping voice, cold and dangerous, and Aliena knew why. Soon the bodies of those two sparrows would be discovered.

"N-no, Ser, I never-" The boy practically shrunk under Sandor's gaze.

"Open the gates, and be quick about it, if you want to keep that golden cloak."

"Do as the knight says, Herman." The older guard seemed frightened now, not only because Sandor had put a hand on his sword hilt.

With a quick suspicious look, the boy did as he was told. The portcullis raised excruciatingly slowly, the sound of steel grating against stone filled the air and made them both deaf to their surroundings, to potential enemies and chasers. She expected to see sparrows behind them any moment, or some gold cloaks. And then, they'd be cornered. He would take all the blame and suffer for it...but she could not let that happen. _Father, for once, hear my prayers and help me._ Perhaps he heard her. Perhaps they were just lucky. The portcullis was raised.

Still more frightened than suspicious, the two guards unbarred the gate and pushed it open. Sandor flipped them each a coin.

"For your efforts." He rasped drily, before they disappeared into the night. By the morrow, they would both have lost their posts.

It was Sandor who led and she who followed now, her mare always close on Stranger's hooves but she quickly caught up.

"You can be very convincing."

He grunted in reply. " _Gold cloaks_. They'd sell their daughters to a kingsguard." His tone was full of scorn. Then he reached up and pulled the heavy white cloak off his shoulders.

"Should have given them this, they'd have presented me with their sons' heads in return, no doubt." He tossed the cloak aside carelessly and a gush of wind carried it a few feet further before it came to lie on the muddy grass, like a pile of old snow.

"If you hated it so much, why did you take it?" She wondered aloud.

"Why did you stay after the old king's death?" he asked in reply and she shut up.

 _Because I had nowhere else to go._

 **~o~**

 **Sandor**

They rode North fiercely and reached the Blackwater arm long before the night ended. She was a good rider, quick and light and swift, one with that new horse she barely knew.

They rode a few paces North on the other side, then turned around and rode the same way back until they found the arm of the Blackwater, and continued their journey in the shallow water of the cool stream. South, and further south it took them, they were both too tense to speak, or maybe she was too tired. _We cannot rest, not so close to the capital._ But she never called to a halt, never asked for a short break, never complained.

She laughed heartily when the rain came they had hoped for, a heavy splattering rain that would make it impossible for the dogs to track them down. But they would find his cloak, a few miles north of the capital and an old man had seen them, on the northern bank of the Blackwater. _With her, it always works out. With her, I am always lucky._

She spoke again when the sun rose in the east, bright red, emerging from clouds of gold and pink and orange.

"That is where we'll go." she smiled. "East and further east." To the dragon queen in the lands beyond the Free Cities, great ancient cities with a history as old as time, strange tongues and stranger people. He did not feel drawn to it but she was desperate to see all that.

She had been anxious and tense last night but that was gone now it seemed, she was half drunk on relief and euphoria and her cheerful laugh was enough to lighten his heart as well.

They were making for Storm's End, or thereabouts, she had not been very specific surrounded by ears and eyes in the capital. From there on, they would make for Mereen by ship, he supposed.

They rode all day, but when dusk came, Sandor called to a halt.

"I dont mean to kill my horse for you, swan." he said. The stream fed a small pool, surrounded by high pines and rowans, they were still on the outskirts of the Kingswood. The rain had stopped and it was milder here than in the crownlands although there was a stiff breeze from the east.

* * *

"I will take a bath." she decided. _This is madness._

"You bathed a day past, girl."

"I am sweaty and filthy and covered in mud." she pointed out and she was right. There was mud even in her hair. He resisted the temptation to reach out and try to brush it away.

"You are, too." she said. He was.

"I don't bloody care. There's ice on the water, swan." he pointed out incorrectly.

"Only fog."

She put her bag down in the shade of two trees and bound the chestnut mare to the trunk.

She was looking for something in her bag and got back up with a bar of soap in one hand and a bottle of fragrant oil in the other. _She's an utter fool. She packed bloody_ bathing supplies _. Hopefully she remembered to pack at least some useful things._ His own bag was filled with furs and food and wine.

She walked over to the pondside, overgrown with nettles and woodruff and baby's breath, and fumbled with the laces of her gown until it puddled at her feet. She stood in the cold in her chemise, opened her riding boots, took off her woolen socks and fine stockings, and then, lifted her chemise over her head. Her hair flew in a soft breeze. Sandor stared at her naked back for the fracture of a moment and then looked away. To distract himself, he gathered wood for a fire, but then smelled the sweat and mud on his tunic… and followed her with a loud splash. The water was liquid ice. He washed quickly and then stormed out again, dressed warmly and built a fire. By the time she had washed her hair with fragrant soap and oil, her lips were turning blue and the sky as well. Night lurked behind the horizon but it was still light enough to see. To see her as she stepped out, naked, wet, shivering. She turned away from him as she dried herself with a woolen blanket and dressed quickly and unceremoniously and Sandor turned his gaze back to the fire guiltily. He shouldn't have stared.

"What are yo drinking?"

He handed her one of the two leather cups.

"Wine."

She looked at the cup with mild disgust.

"Is that your sour wine? No, thanks. I brought some, too."

"It tasted like piss." He called that grape juice.

"I water it down."

"Watered piss tastes no better. Drink the wine, it will make you feel warm."

She took the cup, and almost dropped.

"You warmed it up."

"You really don't miss much, huh?" he mocked her.

She took a sip of wine, pulled a face and cocked a brow at him.

"I honestly prefer my watered piss." she said. But she took another sip.

He had roasted the hare she had shot earlier but she only shook her head.

"I brought soft bread, pasties and tarts." _At least there's not only dresses and oils in her bag_.

He took one of the tarts she offered him, lemon and strawberry. It was not so bad, he supposed, but it tasted like her soap.

"We have made it." She smiled. "We should reach Storm's End tomorrow, and a little North, a small trading galley will wait for us. Do you think they already noticed?"

Sandor shrugged. "Pretty sure they did. But they'll follow our trail."

They had been cautious, very cautious, and Kevan Lannister would only arrive in the capital on the morrow.

He found her staring at him, her wine cup forgotten.

"What?" Suddenly, he felt self-conscious again. She had that power.

"I'm just so happy you're here with me."

What was he supposed to say to that?

"Never mind." He took a gulp of wine to hide his embarrassment.

She was laughing now. Then she reached up to cup his cheek, her fingers were ice cold, despite the wine. "No really. I am."

She tasted of strawberries and lemons, and a bit of soap.

Slowly, he pulled back. "So am I, swan."

Her smile was the sweetest reward.

She kissed him again, and Sandor was more than surprised when he felt her fingers at the laces of his doublet.

"Swan." he muttered, between two kisses. "No. This is not-" He put his hands on her waist to push her away but he couldn't.

Her fingers had already half unlaced his doublet when they stopped.

"Why not?" she asked, and he heard the disappointment, the hint of pain. _She thinks I reject her._

"I thought-" she started, and even in the fading light of the day, he could see that her cheeks were flushed.

He could feel her heartbeat racing through the thick wool of her gown. _Just like my own._ She could feel it too, surely.

"Yes." his voice was hoarse with desire. "But-"

Her fingers continued. Her smile returned.

"Don't play the knight, Sandor Clegane. I want this, and I want you and if you're still doubting that, you are not only blind but also a fool. A _bloody_ fool." She grinned and as always, her smile was contagious.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, weirdly breathily.

"I am. Are you?" she quipped.

He kissed her in reply and thanked the Gods for her simple dress. This was a first for him, although she was probably not aware and he was as nervous as a green boy in the haystack. Desperately, he tried to remember the little knowledge he had.

He had asked a whore to show him once, when he was only a green boy, desperate for some affection. She had taken his gold and taken his efforts and laughed him in the face afterwards.

 _"Get that thought out of your head, boy. With a face like that in front of them, no woman will ever enjoy your touch."_

Aliena was different though, she had never been repelled by him. _It is only the boy's touch she knows._ He would do what he could to wipe that memory out.

Her skin was smooth under his rough hands but she seemed to enjoy his touch, and when his fingers found the spot between her legs, she moaned softly, a sound almost drowned out by the rustling leaves above them.

Her hands explored his body shily, the sweetest sensation he knew.

Afterwards, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I think I understand now why everyone is going so mad for this." She smiled awkwardly. "I have never been so overwhelmed in my life."

Neither had he. Nor had he ever been so incredibly, wonderfully happy although he did not know where to go from here. She wanted him. She liked him. She had not taken this lightly. Despite all that, he felt the need to shield himself, felt the need to bring some distance between them. She was too close, not physically but emotionally, and he both enjoyed and feared this closeness. He did not want to miss it but it would take some time to get used to it. He had always been alone, after all. _And so has she._

"You should sleep, swan." he kissed her again, an exquisite taste he would perhaps never get used to. "We got a long ride ahead of us."

She had a gift for understanding what he did not say, what he could not say.

"Together." she agreed.


	44. Chapter 44

Well, so that was a bit… controversial.

To defend TheOneKrafter: It was not about criticism in general, but about the way it was brought across, I think.

I thank you all for your reviews and criticism though, especially Nyany4, TheOneKrafter and Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou who take the time to review so often. Your continuous support really keeps me going.

I do not really want to dwell on it, just this much:

I fully understand if you don't like something and I really do want you to tell me, there's no better way for me to improve! Please try to be polite though, it is after all my writing and plot that I worked on that you are tearing to shreds. :D

And I thoroughly apologise for all the fuss I've made. I'm very awkward when it comes to writing this kind of stuff.

...well, in any case, here comes the next chapter. I am a bit more inspired now, despite everything and hope you'll enjoy ;)

* * *

 **~o~**

 **Aliena**

She had never fallen asleep so overwhelmingly, perfectly happy. When she woke up though, cold and shivering, not much of that feeling was left. _He has left._ She spied him with the horses next to the pool she had bathed in yesterday, feeding her handsome dark mare and his heavy black courser. She felt an irrational twinge of jealousy. _Jealous of a horse. I am truly ridiculous._ Yet, it often seemed the courser was closer to him than any human being.

She dressed in silence, once again absolutely insecure. Insecurity was no sentiment she felt often but with him, it seemed to be her constant companion.

"Are you ready to leave?" he asked, almost shouting for there were yards of mud and grass between them. They had been so close yesterday, not only in _that_ way. She had been so euphoric to be free, and, admittedly, to be with him. Yesterday, she had thought that he shared her feelings but apparently she had been mistaken. _I started it. He wouldn't have, he didn't want to._ Shame coloured her cheeks bright pink and she was suddenly feeling uncomfortably warm, despite the cold breeze. _I'd do it again, though._ It had been not at all what she had expected, and far, far better than she had anticipated. _Perhaps I did something wrong._ She was almost eight and ten now, a little too old to be so in the dark about what went on in the bedchamber.

"I'm ready." At least no insecurity leaked through her voice. Years at court had taught her to keep it even and vacuous, had taught her not to reveal the slightest hint of emotion. Her lips formed a small, distant smile. Her shield.

She took her bag and fastened it to the saddle, evading his enquiring eyes.

"About yesterday, swan-" he rasped, clearly just as uncomfortable as she was.

 _He is scared as well, embarrassed, insecure._ Realisation hit her like a bolt of lightning. Of course, he was not used to this either. The act itself, yes. _Mostly_ w _ith whores though_. _Perhaps he has not had something like this in years._ He was a fair bit older than her and certainly more experienced, but when it came to this, he was just as awkward as she was.

The courage that had fled her came back. _He is with me because he likes me. He refused at first because he wanted to protect me. Not because he does not desire me._

She cupped his cheek, the scars both smooth and twisted under her cold fingers. Her heart beat like the Smith's hammer in her chest.

"Yes, about yesterday." she noded. "I am sorry if I did something wrong and I am sorry that I pushed you. I shouldn't have. But please, remember what I said. I meant it. It was not the wine speaking, nor the relief and excitement. I meant it. I mean it."

She had watched his expression change while she was speaking, from confusion to embarrassment, to joy, to embarrassment and then back to the blank mask he used to hide whatever was going on beneath those scars, behind those eyes, dark grey as winter fog and just as obscure.

Slowly, he shook his head.

"You didn't do anything _wrong_." The hint of a smile played on his half burned lips. He tucked a curl behind her ear, as he had done so often, this time to buy himself more time, perhaps. He held her gaze.

"You're different. _Good_ different." He rubbed his eyes, then punched a nearby tree so hard that the bark burst. "Seven hells, swan, I am just no good at this."

There was a bubbly feeling in her stomach, as if she had swallowed a bar of soap.

"Neither am I." It was the truth. Joffrey, Andar, Balon, Aurane, Oberyn...there were many men she had danced the finely orchestrated dance of courtly love with.

This was no dance though, and the absence of prescribed steps frightened her, but it was also the most exciting, surprising, blissful experience she had ever had. And it was far from over.

"No. Suppose not." He seemed relieved. Then he laughed, not the usual bark, nor the cold sneer but a laugh that sounded rusty, unused, young. And she joined him until tears crept into her eyes and her sides hurt.

"Ah, Gods, we're quite the pair, aren't we?" She looked up at the pale sun. _Almost noon._

"It is time to leave though."

Slowly, he bent down and kissed her, ever so lightly. As so often, his face gave nothing away but she had become good at reading the expression in his eyes. At the moment she saw exactly what she felt herself: A fondness she could not put into words, a fondness that made her feel strangely vulnerable, a fondness that filled her chest like a warm and soothing liquid.

They mounted in silence but then she felt the need to explain where they were going.

"We're heading to a small natural harbour only a few miles north of Storm's End. It is south of Bronzegate, the ancient seat of the Bucklers."

Lord Ralph Buckler had been a guest at the royal wedding, his cousin served Queen Selyse Florent in the North and the old Bastard of Bronzegate, Cedrik Storm, would accompany them to Queen Daenerys. They had an egg in every nest. With Storm were knights from other houses of the Stormlands, younger sons and cousins, eager for glory and a chance to stand out.

"Cedrik Storm will wait for us with a small galley and a crew."

"The Bastard of Bronzegate." he snorted. Most men remembered his name. He had been a great tourney knight once.

"Yes. Him and a few other sons of the Stormlands." The wind tore at her voice and carried her words over to him.

They were close to the shore now, the familiar smell of salt, seaweed and sand was in her nose, a smell that reminded her of days so long ago that they almost belonged to a different life. In King's Landing, the sea had smelled of dung and piss and rotten fish, and of corpses as of lately. Nothing stank like decaying human flesh. She was so happy to be rid of that smell.

"Younger sons, cousins, bastards, those that have no other place in the world." His tone was not bitter. He himself was a younger son that had no place in the world.

She had to smile.

"The Dragon Queen's court is the perfect place for those that find no home here." _Just like us._

Sandor only nodded at that but darted a sharp look at her.

"They left the safety of their keeps for you, they'll cross an ocean for you."

She wished his words had more truth in them.

"They want a capable ruler, an end of this war, they want their brothers and fathers to return home. Cersei will never give them peace, Stannis is unable to bend that stiff backbone of his. Ironborn are raiders not rulers and the Targaryens have strong ties to the Baratheons. Daenerys is the natural choice for every stormlander that has grown sick of Stannis and the Lannisters."

"And still, it is the scum you get." _Most of the others are in captivity or leagues away in the North._ But that was not the principal reason, in all honesty.

"I am the Lady of the Stormlands in the eyes of many. They feel Stannis has forfeited this right because he worships that mad priestess and fled to the Wall with husbands and heirs, and our gracious king Tommen is no more Baratheon than his father, that much is known." She sighed. "I am a woman though and my journey is a dangerous one, so I get the bastards and younger sons, the cousins and uncles while the lords and heirs feign compliance and hide behind their castle walls."

"Better a loyal bastard than a lord with a wind vane on his noble standard, swan."

That was what she liked about him. Not even one in a hundred would have given that answer.

He looked fearsome in his black wool cloak, with the new, angry red scar on his forehead and his tangled, matted dark hair. _He would be frowned upon in the Reach but the Stormlanders respect strength, integrity, loyalty. They do not fear harshness, nor force or crude manners._ Cedrik Storm was too old to lead the Stormlanders in battle and she was even more unfit but Sandor was the perfect choice. Hopefully, he would agree.

Whereas the Reach stretched flat from the Sunset Sea to the Kingswood, the landscape of the Stormlands was as wayward, wild and unpredictable as its people: Rolling hills were followed by narrow, dry valleys, by barren wasteland and grassy, fertile plains.

They had left the Kingswood far behind and soon Storm's End would would appear at the south eastern horizon, its single tower an angry black fist protruding from an immense mass of grey stone. _Home, if I ever had one._ This was the road they had always taken from King's Landing as well, she remembered, and everytime they had reached the low hill she had stopped to take in the view of home. She did so today as well, without really thinking about it.

The sky was lead and silver, the sun weak and small right above the ancient fortress. It was the most imposing castle she had ever seen, putting even Winterfell to shame. Its walls were so perfectly even that the wind could find no purchase, so thick and high that no enemy could dream of tearing them down. She remembered the view from the lord's chambers, high up in the squat tower, the angry sea's hissing and the wind's howling, the warmth of the fire, the green meadows, the high cliffs, the seals and the seagulls-

"You miss it much?" Sandor had studied her attentively.

Aliena was not sure how to put it. It were memories that made this place her home, although she loved the castle itself.

"I miss what it once was." she replied and he proved that he had understood:

"No point in longing for things that are long gone, swan." His voice was barely audible over the rush of the wind and the cries of the gulls.

She nodded and pressed her heels into the mare's sides. _Forwards._ That was her direction. One day she would return and take her castle. And she prayed to all seven, even the Stranger, that he would still be at her side then.

 **~o~**

 **Sandor**

She had looked so forlorn on that hill, her attention solely on the castle she had grown up in, a dark grey splotch leagues away. Her eyes had been shining and wet, but whether from the wind or the memories he could not tell. It made him uncomfortable to see her so wistful, uncomfortable and almost sad himself.

"You miss it much?" he had asked, an obvious question if there ever was one and he had cursed himself for his awkwardness and lack of originality.

"I miss what it once was." she had replied, and once again he had wanted to shower her face with kisses. In this world where everyone wanted gold or power or some cunt or fine knight, all she longed for was home, a place where she belonged. _All I want now is her._ Killing Gregor had lost a great part of its appeal now that his brother had been almost killed and was then brought back to life with magic and unknown powers Sandor did not like to think about.

"No point in longing for things that are long gone, swan." Advice for her as much as for himself.

His comment had been intended to be reassuring but the words had come out gruff as always, and he was uncertain whether she got what he had meant.

In response she only nodded and spurned her horse after one last long glance at the ancient castle in the distance. _Perhaps she did._

They reached the natural little harbour in the afternoon, the sun had not yet lost the little power it still had left.

A man was waiting for them, a man with the neck of an ox and the shoulders of a bear, broad and tough, with a thundering voice and a boyish grin. _A stormlander if there ever was one._ They were strong, thundering oafs with a bawdy sense of humour, a taste for battle and a terrible temper. _She has the temper as well._

"I am Cedrik Storm." He said his name with pride. Every boy had known the Bastard of Bronzegate back then, when Sandor himself had been half a boy. THe man had been a great tourney knight but even better at melees although he had lost half a dozen teeth in them and never married.

Aliena dismounted and the bastard bowed. He was near on seventy now, surely, but still moved as swiftly and with as much vigour as a man four decades his junior.

"My lady. I am honoured. I knew your parents well."

She smiled. "I did not. You must tell me about them at some point."

The old man nodded and then turned to Sandor. Aliena had taken a few steps towards the ship, a galley of average size, not new but with a fresh coat of paint and white virgin sails. She could not hear them over the cries of the seagulls and the thundering waves.

"The Lannisters' dog." There was no scorn in the man's voice, only curiosity.

"They say you are loyal to the bone and yet you left them. What brings you here?"

Sandor considered him for a moment. "Loyalty." He replied gruffly. It had been the right answer.

The man slapped him on the shoulder hard but approvingly, like a comrade at arms. Then he held his gaze with an uncomfortable intensity. Sandor stared back, unblinking.

"I might not look like it, Clegane, but there's still some strength in these old arms of mine. You don't strike me as the betraying kind but just so you know."

Sandor did not doubt the old man's strength but he was stronger, and quicker.

"I'll keep it in mind, old man."

The Bastard's laugh was loud as thunder.

Aliena turned around, mild surprise on her pretty face.

At the sight of her, the old man stopped laughing.

"We had news, my lady, only this morning." Not good news, that much Sandor could tell. "Stannis is dead, it seems. Defeated by the Boltons, that treacherous lot."

She lowered her eyes for a moment.  
"I am sorry to hear this. My uncle and I were no friends, but he was still my kin. I will pray for him."

"Pray all you like, my lady, our Gods won't have him anymore. Cut down the Godswood, he did, burned the heart tree and all seven statues in the sept." There was open contempt on his lined face. A Stormlander did not hide his feelings.

"He was Lord of the Stormlands, and King by right. But he served the wrong Gods and burned some good men for his red whore. He was no king of mine." The bastard declared grimly.

"He erred, I agree. Isn't your cousin with him? I hope he is well?"

"There was no word from him, my lady. But my nephew in King's Landing sent me a raven only yesterday. The Queen's still with that mad septon but Kevan Lannister has arrived in the capital, he and that old maester rule now."

"And they are doing well I trust. Have they sent men after us?"

"Aye. They fell for your red herring and think the Hound wanted to sell you to your uncle. They're laughing now but they won't laugh forever." He grinned grimly.

 _How long has she planned all this? While I was lying in that tower cell, useless and feverish?_

"No. The Lannister summer is over, and the Grand Maester and Lord Regent will learn that soon. Has Kenna been here?"

"Your servant came a fortnight ago. Everything she brought with her is in your cabin, my lady. And many young stormlanders followed your call. What will the queen do when it reaches her that you rallied men against her?"

 _For fuck's sake-_ Sandor turned to her, about to start ranting when she raised a hand.

"Varys will see to it that no little bird will sing that song. And even if one or two do. She will think it a deception. Word has spread now and many will try and use my disappearance for their personal gain. Soon word will get out that I am at Highgarden with the Queen of Thorns, married to the crippled heir. Later, others will claim that Ironborn abducted me and I am now on Pyke as a Salt wife." She smiled. "I have not many friends, admittedly, but a few powerful ones. Cersei is mad with suspicion and Kevan will never listen to the whisperers. And they found Sandor's cloak and my hairnet North of the Blackwater." The old man's watery blue eyes darted over to Sandor when she said his first name so familiarly, but then they returned to her. "Nevertheless, it would be wise to leave as soon as possible."

"The galley is ready, my lady, and the men have been more than ready for half a week."

"How many men have come?" she asked, and she was bracing herself for disappointment he thought.

"Near on five hundred." Sandor was almost as surprised as she was.

"That many?" Three hundred would have been many, considering how war-ridden the Stormlands were. Five hundred though…

"Younger sons and cousins of the main branches, bastards as well. But every noble house of the Stormlands has sent whom they could spare. Now that Stannis is dead, you are our Lady, whatever that golden haired whore claims. That boy is no king of ours, and no Stormlander. Your name might not be Baratheon, but your blood is, even a blind man would know." He bowed again. "They say the North remembers. But we say, the Stormlands are unwavering." He looked half a cliff himself, tall and broad and grey from the sole of his boots to the shock of hair on his head.

 _They love her._ She was more popular here than she had thought, than even he had thought. She had always been one to inspire loyalty but it was not only her person that made them follow her, it was her claim, her blood, her face. Everything about her screamed Baratheon and in the Stormlands, the blood was old and the ties to the Baratheons were strong. No Lannister would ever be able to compete with her.

She smiled at the old man, and Sandor could tell that she was moved though she tried to hide it.

"Shall we set sail and brave the storms then?"

"As the Storm's daughter commands." The old man grinned. "Where are we heading?"

"The Stepstones, for now." _Clever little swan._ Sandor knew exactly who would be waiting for them there.


	45. Chapter 45

**I am so sorry it took me so long, I've been away for the weekend and had literally no time. I am also really busy with uni at the moment so I fear I cannot keep up my updating routine for one or two weeks. But I'll do my best and hopefully, I'll have another chapter ready before the end of the week!**

 **Here it is though! This is the product of a collaboration with TheOneKrafter, we kind of borrowed each other's protagonist ;) Adyn is her character.**

I thank everyone who took the time to leave a review, they always motivate me a lot.

ShinyRedPenny: Thank you a lot for your motivational words and support! I am truly touched :)

Nyany4: Thank you for taking the time to review after every chapter, I am always interested to read your opinion! Yeah, quite unexpected, I know. I tried to hint at her popularity with the smallfolk earlier, and at her popularity in the Stormlands. Perhaps it was not obvious enough.

Guest2: Thank you! Yeah, my family's German, but I've been living in the UK for quite a while. My location settings must have changed last weekend. I do my best, thanks! ;)

Guest1: Ah, alright, I must have got that wrong then, sorry. No worries, your review didn't upset me!

Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou: Thanks, that's very sweet of you. I'm glad you enjoy reading this so much :)

Thank you all for reading!

* * *

 **The Narrow Sea, 300 AC**

 **Sandor**

"A new pirate king has set up in the Stepstones-" The old man objected, confused.

She smiled. "The Lord of the Waters, I know."

Waters had been an admirer of hers and Sandor remembered the stab of jealousy he had felt back then when she had twirled in the younger man's arms. _He was her pawn, never more._ It was both a soothing and a gloomy thought at the same time.

"You will find, Ser, that pirates are not quite as bad as their reputation. At least not this one. Lord Waters manned the Queen's ten new dromonds with peasants and my uncle's men, those that fell into disgrace after his death or were substituted by red cloaks. And when the High Septon took Her Grace into custody, he seized the opportunity. They are waiting for us on the northernmost island of the Stepstones."

 _For how long has she been planning this journey?_ Sandor had not expected this, neither the bastard of Bronzegate nor the bastard of Driftmark. Cedrik Storm seemed taken aback for a moment, too, but then he shrugged.

"Aye." He nodded. "I'll give the command then. The cabins are under deck."

When he was gone, Sandor turned to her.

"You never told me."

"I meant to tell you yesterday." She blushed. _Only yesterday, we were occupied with other things._

"Waters is your puppet then, is he?" Sandor was not ready to talk about what happened yesterday.

But she shook her head.

"Not my puppet, no. He has more selfish motivations than Storm. It is Dragonstone he wants. And he was clever enough to see that Cersei's days are over. Mine are not, and the only rightful heir to the Iron Throne is Daenerys Targaryen. Incidentally, the Velaryons of Driftmark are closely related to the Targaryens. I only needed to remind him of that and he was more than willing to play along. I trust him not though. He betrayed Cersei. He might betray us too." _Us._ Against his will he had to smile. She had noticed it as well.

"These men have come for my name and blood, but they will never follow a woman in battle. Nor is Cedrik Storm the right man to lead them." she continued.

 _You would die before the first horn blows._ She was cunning and clever but not one for battle. And Storm was fierce as a mastiff but old. Sandor thought he knew what she was getting at. And he liked it not one bit.

" _You_ are, though." _Damn the Seven._

"No." He refused flatly, knowing that he was starting a duel he might not win.

She was not pleased, but neither was she surprised.

"Shall we go under deck first?" _Buying time._ And this was a discussion she did not want to have in front of others. He followed her, both angry and ashamed. She was not asking much of him. He had led more sorties than he was years old, had fought in every recent battle, won countless duels against great odds. But this was different, although he was unsure whether she noticed why.

She opened the door to the captain's cabin, the largest cabin, as if the place belonged to her, which it did, somehow. _She is always the highborn lady._ She was on her way to serve but here, she would rule. At least for the time of their journey, these men knew no other lord but her. Sandor was not sure whether she was aware of it. She thought they all came for that dragon queen.

The cabin was large though not luxurious. There was a bed, wide enough for two he noticed with a quickness that put him to shame, a table and two chairs, all secured on the floor with thick iron nails.

"Why not?" Her tone was still even but he knew her long enough to know she was displeased.

"You really want me to lead your army?"

"No. I want you to lead these men. They are not _my_ army. They have come for Daenerys and they have no idea what is awaiting them. They need a strong leader. As do I. The sea route is dangerous, even more so now that the Triarchy is back at war."

"Why do you take it then?"

"The land route is even more dangerous for a group of outlaws without the protection of the powerful. But you are evading my question."

"Bloody right, I am." he agreed.

She did not repeat her question. Instead, she asked another one.

"What is this for you? What do you want?"

The first question was too difficult. The second one too easy.

"I want you, swan. You know that."

"Do I?" A sad smile played on her lips. "What do you want about me?"

"All of you." He was angry at her for forcing him to admit it, and also relieved that he could finally get this out of his system.

She took his hand.

"You do not like depending on someone. You do not like needing someone." Sandor wanted to object but she did not let him. "You do not like being close to someone. Working together with someone. But a dog has a pack."

"I'm no dog, I'm a Hound, swan." It was a feeble reply, his resistance was melting away like the first snow under the autumn sun.

"The thing is, Sandor, that I have _loved_ you for near on two years now, I think." she said, so matter of factly that it took him a moment to understand what she was actually saying. "And I depend on you. I need you. I feel close to you. And I want to work together with you." She had opened up in words but her eyes were guarded. He met a wall of ice.

"But do you? You replied to my second question but not to my first." _What is this for you?_

"Because I don't know."

This was foreign territory for him, all strange and new and unknown. And it frightened him although he could not admit it. He had been happy to leave the capital, leave all the lies behind … but now, when it came to acknowledging his feelings, not only to her but to the world, he was suddenly as much of a coward as Boros Blount.

"So you don't know what you want?" she asked, suddenly confused.

It was overwhelming. She wanted him to be at her side and there was nothing he wanted more. But she cared for the opinion of others, and it mattered for only they could give her what she wanted. _She_ seemed to be blind when it came to him but Sandor knew that no one would cheer for him, no one would approve. And if she turned away from him because of that…

He could not help it, these doubts were weeds that had been watered continuously over the years. And he could not pull up these weeds within brief hours or moons. He had never feared rejection before, he had worn his armour day and night and nothing could ever so much as scratch him. But he had let his guard down for her and she had taken his armour apart piece by piece until there was nothing left of it. His vulnerability was something he had grown to appreciate for it allowed her to come closer than anyone ever had but he could not show this to others. He was the Hound and they could not hurt him, there was nothing he feared but fire...and now he had given her the same power.

He could not admit his weakness...but if he did not, he would lose her. There was disappointment in her eyes and she was fighting tears. Where there had been joy and euphoria before, there was confusion and sadness now. _I can't do nothing right when it comes to this._

Sandor took a step towards her and put his hands on her shoulders. Too firmly perhaps.

"I know exactly what I want. Aliena." he said darkly. "You can't understand-"

"You're scared." There was the hint of a smile in her eyes. "I understand very well. Do you think I am not? Seven hells, this is uncomfortable, dangerous, threatening. You battered down my walls with those big fists and I have no idea how it happened. But I am also sick of hiding it. I am sick of pretending. If you are not, if you need time, I will wait. As long as it takes. Just remember that I will get wrinkles one day, and my breasts will begin to sag." She grinned and lifted a hand to cup his cheek. The sensation of her fingers on his skin was so wonderfully familiar.

"You'd make a terrible fool." he replied.

"You'd make a great leader."

"I'll do it." he agreed. "But-"

"We won't tell anyone?" she asked, her voice controlled once more though he detected disappointment in her tone.

"You can send a raven to the whole of Westeros for all I care. You matter. They don't."

Yes, she was his weakness. A terrible weakness, stronger than his fear of fire, stronger than his brother. But she was also his strength, the best about him. And why should he care for what they thought? She loved him. She wanted him. She wanted everyone to know. He weeded the fear, pulled it out, root and all. She loved him, she had just said it.

"The only question I have then … are you my paramour...or am I yours?" She smiled again.

 _You could be my wife._ He did not say it though. There had been enough talk of this today. They had time, after all. All the time in the world.

 **~o~**

 **Aliena**

They shared the captain's cabin. She was certain that there was talk, but none of it reached her ears and she did not care. This was what she wanted and no talk could ever convince her of the contrary. Cedrik Storm had only shrugged when she had informed him that Sandor would need no extra cabin. He might have been surprised, but it was no concern of his.

Sandor and Aliena spent the days together now, too, not only the nights. And they planned the organisation of _their_ troops. He kept insisting that these men were hers and she had stopped objecting. It did not matter in the end. She would serve the Dragon Queen and so would they. Sandor tried to explain to her the structure of an army but Aliena had never been one to grasp the concept of battles and armies and fighting. Wars were won with diplomacy as much as with armies, and the former was her remit, the latter his. She understood though that defense had to be organised differently on a ship. So Cedrik Storm was included in the planning too, for he was a seasoned seafarer.

Aurane Waters had _borrowed_ ten dromonds. He had written that he had won another, though he did not explain how exactly. He had been a pirate for less than a fortnight, so she was rather impressed but hoped he had not left too much blood on the carpet. In the water, to be more precise. It would not please the queen at all to have a fleet of pirates and criminals and neither did that please Aliena. _Hopefully he is not more of a fool than I thought._

The sea was rough so it took them the greater part of three days to reach the small island called Torturer's Deep. The name was truly charming but Aliena expected no less from a _former_ pirate nest. _Hopefully, at least._

Aurane Waters waited for them with a few of his men. Her men.

"Lady Aliena!" He bowed, seemingly overjoyed. But the pirate lord did not fool her.

"Lord Aurane." She allowed him to kiss her on the cheek.

"We heard you have been very successful as a pirate. I hope you have not decided on it as a future career?"

He seemed uncomfortable that she knew so much. "I prefer Dragonstone over the _Torturer's Deep_ , my lady", he smiled. "If I may invite you to dine with me? You and your… companions?"

Aliena could tell that the presence of Sandor and Cedrik certainly did not put him at ease. _You really thought I would come all alone ?_

"How generous of you. Will we feast on the rations from King's Landing?" _The rations_ I _provided?_

Again, he was uncomfortable. "Most of it comes from the capital, yes." he admitted.

"Ah. I chose most of it myself. So I will enjoy dinner very much." She smiled. The time of the self-styled 'Lord of the Waters' was over. She was here now and he would understand very soon that she was not like her aunt.

"I would like to see the dromonds." she smiled. "The new one you acquired too."

They were imposing. _Lord Tywin_ was huge, three decked and as long and wide as the great hall of the Red Keep. _Sweet Cersei was only_ half the size of the flagship but twice as elegant and very swift, Cedrik Storm assured her. The others were all impressive too, with scrubbed decks, clean sails and freshly painted hulls. The most recent addition to the fleet, the new ship, was the oldest, worn out by battle and storms but it looked strong and intact enough for a long journey, as far as she could tell.

Aliena was pleased. She would not have liked arriving at Meereen a beggar. These ships were not truly hers, she was aware of it, but they had been built for a Baratheon king so she felt not quite like a thief.

"An imposing fleet. I intend to set sail as soon as possible. We should discuss this tonight, Lord Waters." She smiled at him. "Where will we dine?" It was a trap. But he did not walk into it.

"My lady, you are free to choose whichever ship you desire. I have taken up residence on the former pirate ship." The most humble of all. "For dinner, I recommend the dining room of the _Lord Tywin_. It will serve your needs."

"We need to rename the ships. We can hardly arrive with a fleet named after the usurper and his family. But as you say, my lord. It will be you, and whomever you have chosen as your second in command, me and my two _companions_ , as you named them."

Waters nodded. "You are free to choose the names for the ships, my lady." Then, he added, with a smile: "They are yours."

"A generous gift." She leant over to him. "I will show myself grateful. Dragonstone has never appealed to me, in truth."

"What a fortunate coincidence. I have always loved it." There was mischief in his eyes.

 **~o~**

The dining room on the _Lord Tywin_ was spectacular, especially considering the ship was a war galley.

Aliena had dressed accordingly, in the fine silks and velvets she had worn in King's Landing, in those silks and velvets Kenna had taken with her weeks ago.

This dress was aquamarine silk, set with sapphires and emeralds, the skirt consisted of waves of satin, edged with pale blue chiffon, so that it looked like a turbulent sea. A gown that matched not only her ridiculous moniker, _Seaeye,_ but also her purpose here.

"You look exceptional, my lady." Lord Waters kissed her hand. His eyes had the same colour as her dress.

"You are too kind." Aliena was well versed in the exchange of pleasantries. Sandor at her side wore grey, olive green, and a scowl.

"Clegane." Waters acknowledged his presence with a nod. These two would never be friends.

Cedrik saw it, too. Aliena did not need to ask him to know that the old man preferred the dog over the bastard. Aurane was too smooth, too well dressed, too gallant to appeal to a Stormlander of old.

A tall, haggard man with a shock of greying brown hair and sharp dark eyes had risen from his seat as they entered.

"Ser Cristofer Errol." Aurane introduced him. "Cousin to Lord Sebastian Errol."

The Errols were one of the few families that had stayed loyal to Stannis even after the Battle of the Blackwater. This one must have been captured though.

"Did you swear fealty to King Joffrey?" Aliena asked him.  
"I did, my lady. And I never betrayed him. I did not swear fealty to his brother though." He seemed uncomfortable. _This one has honour._ She would have to ask him to swear fealty to her and Queen Daenerys.

"No one here thinks less of you for it." she assured him. "Joffrey would have killed you no doubt, had you refused to swear fealty."

"No, my lady. He would have had me killed. The dead king was no man to swing the sword himself." There was scorn in his voice.

"Indeed." _Those black eyes see much._

They took their seats at the table, Aliena flanked by Storm and Sandor, Aurane opposite her with Ser Cristofer at his side.

They came to the point only after the last course. They were both courtiers, after all, and knew the game well enough. Pleasantries were exchanged and there was a merry banter, though neither of their companions really took part. Storm busied himself with his plate and his wine cup, Sandor stared at Aurane with open hostility while Ser Cristofer's eyes darted from one to the other.

Finally, Waters could not wait any longer though.

"I did everything you told me to do, my lady." Waters pointed out. "How do you want to continue?"

"We will redistribute the men. There are near on five hundred on the old galley we have come here on. Too many for such a small ship. You said that there are still free oars on the two great ships?"

"Yes. Two hundred on the _Lord Tywin_ and near on a hundred on the _Sweet Cersei_. So that is settled. But what about the leaders? Who will command the ships? Will you do it?" He asked, banning disbelief from his voice politely.

"That would make for an interesting journey, no doubt." She laughed. "But no, I do intend on surviving it. Sandor Clegane will have supreme command over the troops. Cedrik Storm and you will each command a ship. You retain your position as Grand Admiral and therefore have command over the ships… unless it comes to battle." She smiled to take the harshness out of her words. "Lord Cedrik will be my advisor, although I hope that I can count on your council as well."

"You can count on me, Lady Swann." He took the disappointment very well and Aliena did not like that at all. A man who hid his feelings so well might hide even more.

"As Grand Admiral, it is your duty to bring us to Meereen safely." she smiled. "No one else is as experienced as you are when it comes to seafaring so we put our fates in your hands."

"But as soon as we are attacked, Clegane takes over. I understand. He is most seasoned in battle, is he?" Aurane looked at Storm but the old man shook his head.

"I am too old for this. The Hound will do well, no doubt. Give me a sortie, boy, and hopefully the Gods will let me die with a sword in my belly, that's all I want of life."

Sandor nodded but Aliena had to smile. All men were fools when it came to war and women.

"Do not think about dying now, Cedrik, please. We really cannot do without you."

The dark sky outside the lead glass windows was studded with stars, the moon was already sinking. The night would soon come to an end.

"We should decide the rest on the morrow. It is already quite late and we want to set sail before sunset tomorrow, don't we?"

"As you wish, my lady. All ships are ready to set sail. You only need to pick one." Aurane Waters was impatient. But she first wanted to discuss this matter with Storm and Sandor. Aliena knew nothing about war and less about seafaring but Lord Waters did not need to know that. The bastard of Driftmark seemed to be a friend, but Cersei had surely thought the same once. Aliena would never make her mistakes.

"Good night, my lord." In reply, the tall man bowed and kissed her hand, the very image of gallantry. _Never trust a bastard. They are forever trying to prove themselves. And will go to great lengths to rise in their father's eyes._ But then again, wasn't that what she did as well?

 **~o~**

 **Sandor**

He was relieved that this wretched dinner was over. Sandor was not one for these pleasantries and battles of words. That was her domain, what she was good at. Storm had been bored as well, though the food had been good. Sandor could not enjoy it though with Waters staring at her with more hunger than at his grilled shellfish. Aliena pretended not to notice, or perhaps she really didn't. She was used to it, no doubt. But Sandor saw it. It was not only Dragonstone and the Dragon Queen he had come for. It was not only indifference that had made the bastard betray the old queen.

They walked over to the old war galley, the three of them. Under deck, Storm invited them for a cup of wine into his cramped cabin.

"Don't trust that bugger." Sandor said, not bothering to lower his voice. If Waters had sent men after them, he would not like what he heard at all.

Cedrik Storm swayed his head. "Eager to please, that boy, but green as seaweed, rash, and overbold. He'd have us at the bottom of the sea within weeks. Wise of you, Lady, to give him a title in name but not in action."

"Was it wise?" She wondered aloud. "He knows it's an empty shell, too. And I am unsure whether he deals with disappointment well."

"He has no choice." Sandor's rasp cut through the night's silence. "These men are not his. And they won't betray you for a bastard. Waters knows what he'd lose." _He'd lose most of his ships and men, his prospects and that rocky island in the narrow sea. And he'd also lose your favour._ He did not say it, for he knew that jealousy would cling to his words.

"Right. Let us hope he is wise enough to see that." Aliena took a sip of wine and pulled a face. " _Sour_."

"Dornish red, an old vintage." Storm announced proudly. "The best wine I could get my hands on. Only Myrish fire wine is better."

The old man knew his way round the known world, and he had tried a flagon in each port, Sandor bet.

Aliena set her glass down on a pine dresser. "Anyway. We have decisions to make."

 **~o~**

 **Aliena**

The morning dawned clear and bright and bitterly cold. Winter was there, but the sky wore its spring dress: It was brilliantly blue and the sun shone like a gem set in velvet.

Aliena, Sandor and Cedrik met Waters and Ser Cristofer on the highest deck of the _Lord Tywin_ to discuss the distribution, offices and other organisational matters. It was tedious but necessary.

"How many men does it take to navigate this ship?" Aliena asked Cedrik Storm, the man she trusted most with these matters. A husky voice cut through the expectant silence.

"Dunno how many men it takes, but it certainly takes only half as many women."

The five leaders turned around. A boy stood there, with dark, shoulder length hair, freckles and warm brown eyes. Aliena would have taken him for a salty Dornishman if not for the freckles.

"And you are?"

"Adyn." He said, grinning. "And you're the lady Waters won't shut up about." His tone was inappropriately amicable but Aliena was too astounded to take offense.

It dawned upon her only slowly. This was no boy, despite her tunic and breeches and short hair.

"A girl in men's clothes. How refreshing. What are you doing here, Adyn? And where are you from?" The girl's voice had the sharp, quick melody of the capital.

"From King's Landing. We've been told this was a good place for all those fed up with the little shit's brother and that bitch of a mother."

Aliena was a little taken aback by her choice of words.

"You mean Tommen and Cersei Lannister?" she asked, half laughing is astonishment.

"Aye. All those sick of that terror rule man your ships now, lady. Or woman."

Aliena turned to the bastard of Driftmark.

"Lord Waters, I must say, I am surprised. You said the crew was unconventional, but I had no idea _how_ unconventional indeed."

Aurane Waters at her side had turned an interesting shade of red. _You're the lady Waters won't shut up about._ It surprised Aliena, in all truth, and not in a positive way. She could not do with jealousy amongst her commanders, and least of all with her as the subject.

"I don't know her-" he started but to everyone's utter surprise, Sandor grumbled:

"I do. Little shit's been a pain in the ass for a while." But Aliena noticed a hint of amusement in his tone.

The girl took a step towards them. "You old shit, took you long enough to come back round. None of us are getting any younger, Clegane." This girl definitely did not know her metes and bounds.

Sandor only snorted. "Call me 'old shit' again, little shit, and I promise, you'll wish those bandits had done for you back on the kingsroad." Aliena saw through his gruff demeanor well enough to see that he did like this girl.

She cut in: "Adyn, you were a servant in King's Landing, I guess?"

"Aye, my lady, though it was more of a part time thing." Aliena would have bet on it. This girl had nothing of the soft-spoken handmaidens she knew, she must have been a kitchen servant.

"You don't have the body to row a ship. But I am in dire need of a maid. Do you think you are up for the task?"

"Lace up gowns and braid hair? Why not." The girl shrugged where other servants would have torn their hair out in excitement. It was a great honour to become a handmaiden. And the pay was better too.

"Ady?" A tall, dark haired man at arms dropped his helmet at the sight of them, his expression was pure exasperation. "Pardons, my lady, my lords. Ady, what are you _doing_?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "This is Osbeorn Wigbrand." she introduced the tall lad. Then she turned around to him. "Why, Ozzy, I just secured us both a place on the flagship."

Aliena smiled. "Not on the flagship, no. This one is yours, Lord Waters" Aurane looked at her with surprise. She had discussed this with Sandor and Cedrik last night. "Our ship is the former _Sweet Cersei_. Now, her name is _Syrax_ , though."


	46. Chapter 46

Welcome back^^ I would have updated yesterday, but the site had some problems I think.

I'll take a leaf out of TheOneKrafter's book and reply to reviews at the end of the chapter.

Please, if you find the time, let me know what you think! We know very little about Aurane Waters as a character and I took a very different path with this story (in contrast to We Are All Sinners) and I'm quite uncertain about that.

Also, please let me know what you think about the speech. I find rhetorics of political speeches super interesting and therefore might totally go overboard with it, and with the enthusiastic reactions.

Thank you for reading. :)

* * *

 **A few days earlier, The Great Sept of Baelor**

 **Cersei**

She had confessed. Her new cell had a soft, warm featherbed and they served her meat and wine. _You are so easy to appease._ Nothing but contempt remained in her heart and on her mind but she was careful to appear meek and obedient. _You will all fear me. You will all regret this but then it will be to late._ She would savour their screams of anguish. She would make them beg but she would show them no pity. No, none at all.

Qyburn visited her this morning, she was just breaking her fast on black bread and fried eggs.

"Your Grace." He bowed respectfully. _My one good servant._

"Qyburn. I was told that Aliena would come, that was weeks ago. Where is she? Has she been arrested as well? No one would tell me." The last sentence hurt. They had forced her into this absolute dependency...but she was a lioness. The cage would not break her, she would break the cage.

Qyburn came closer. He was shorter than Cersei but she could still smell his old sour breath when he whispered: "Because they have no idea. Your High Septon thinks we have hidden her in the red keep but the truth is that she has been abducted."

 _NO._ The Gods could not be so cruel. Aliena had been her hope, her only hope. The sparrows loved her, she would have helped Cersei. But without her... _Walk of Atonement._ That would be her fate, the septas had all agreed. Cersei had laughed at them back then. Aliena would not have allowed such a thing and these feeble, bow-backed preachers would have listened to her, might have listened to her.

"Who?" Once she was free again, she would add him to the list of her enemies.

"The Hound, Your Grace." That did take her by surprise, but only for a moment. Had she not said it? The man was a beast and of course he desired a girl like Aliena. And, Cersei noticed with a hint of discomfort, she herself had ordered him to guard her in her bedchamber. That had been wrong, perhaps. But then again, she could not have foreseen it. No, she was not to blame. It was this wretched priest. The Hound had fled the capital after his imprisonment and trial, like a coward. _He was never worthy of the white cloak._

"Word may not get out." The rabble loved their little lady well. Cersei was not sure what they would do once they found out.

"What will he do to her?" she asked. Although the girl was surely in a terrible situation, Cersei could still not feel pity for her. At least Aliena was free, while she was still in her cell. _The Hound's a beast and a brute, everyone knows._ Hopefully, she would not suffer too much. The girl was tougher than she looked and used to pain, Joffrey had seen to that.

"We found his cloak and her hairnet north of the Blackwater and an old man saw them as well, she was bound to her horse and when he addressed them, the Hound flung a stone at him, big enough to kill a cow. No word has reached us since then but the Riverlands respect neither their king nor their lord and the North is fickle in its loyalty."

"He wants to sell her to Stannis. Can he really be that much of a fool?"

"Stannis is now in league with wildings, Your Grace." _Indeed, he has lowered his standards that much._ She had to admit that Clegane had not been stupid. Stannis would pay well for her and he was in no position to refuse a fighter like the Hound.

Suddenly, Cersei laughed. "Lord Qyburn...I wonder how your...project is going."

The old man's dark eyes lit up.

"It is going well, Your Grace." He bowed.

"The Hound will regret betraying me." she vowed. "Your _champion_ will teach him that lesson."

"He will be ready to do so before the moon turns."

That pleased her greatly.

"Has there been word from Jaime?" she was hopeful but Qyburn's grave face shattered that hope.

"The Riverlands, Your Grace...there was no reply and we fear the letter might not have reached him. The people are hungry and ravens are good flesh."

Cersei trembled with anger. These dirty peasants...her loving words might lie in the dirt somewhere, next to charred raven bones and Jaime was still unaware.

"And my uncle?" she asked.

"Ruling the city wisely." _But not doing anything to free her._ No, she could not count on Kevan, that lickspittle. Nor could she count on Jaime or her own son. Only on Qyburn.

"Certainly. Leave me now, Lord Qyburn. And send another letter to Jaime. The last one must have gotten lost."

"As you wish, Your Grace." He retreated without a sound, soft-footed and discrete.

This was not good news at all. Aliena gone, with the Hound of all men. And soon sold to Stannis. She had little importance elsewhere and she would not be of much use to Stannis but here, she could have freed her queen and it made Cersei so angry that she flung the empty flagon against the wall. Nothing went as planned since her father's death. _It is the imp. He has never brought me luck._ Soon, hopefully, someone would bring her his head.

Cersei forced herself to focus. Aliena was gone, Jaime was gone. And she was all on her own. _What would my father have done?_ But no one would have dare to imprison _Tywin Lannister_. He was a man, a lord. No one had dared to raise a hand against him. _They will fear me too, like they feared him, once I am done with these preachers and sparrows._ But that did not help her much for now. She would have to go further. Take the walk of atonement. Hatred boiled up inside her, hotter than ever. They would all regret this, terribly, terribly regret this. But then, it would be too late. _They will all see the lion of Casterly Rock in me. They will all see my father's only heir._

 **The Red Keep, 300AC**

 **Kevan**

This business with Robert's niece was not only very inconvenient but it also struck Kevan as somehow odd. Clegane had just recovered from injuries taken in his trial and Kevan understood that other men would desert their king in the same situation. But not Clegane. Tywin had always stressed his loyalty. _Nothing but fire and his brother could ever make him waver in his loyalty._ And Clegane had stayed, even through the Battle of the Blackwater, even after his brother's duel and death...why now, of all times? And why would he take the girl with him? He had gold, had not squandered his winnings as so many other tourney champions had. They girl _would_ bring a nice ransom, Kevan was sure that Stannis would like to keep her close as she posed a threat to his own daughter's claim. But Stannis would never take the Hound into his service, he was more like to burn him for his crimes, whether he got involved with wildlings now or not. Clegane had never been a man with an honourable reputation and Stannis was appalled by cruelty and savagery as much as by weakness. No, Clegane could not hope for a friendly welcome. So why did he leave? The Hound had never struck him as foolish. _He was attacked, imprisoned, badly wounded and no one came to his aid._ Perhaps the dog was sick of being kicked. Perhaps. But Stannis would not be a kinder master.

 _His cloak was found, the girl's hairnet was found._ Kevan might have dismissed that as a ruse but an old man had seen them north of the Blackwater. No, they were on their way North. And there was only Stannis there. _Perhaps they are making for a harbour._ He would have to keep an eye on Gulltown and White Harbour. Thankfully, Baelish and Manderly were trustworthy, at least. The girl was the last of the Baratheons apart from Stannis and his daughter and it would be terrible to lose her. Rumours had reached the capital that Stannis was dead, rumours brought by fleeing Northmen and some deserters of the Watch, Kevan suspected. But no letter had come from the bastard of Bolton and not Lord Roose either, so Kevan remained sceptical. Stannis was not one to die silently.

He leant back in the massive oak and velvet chair and rubbed his aching forehead. He had never asked for this. The Lord's chair had always been Tywin's and Kevan had always stood a step was all meant for his brother, not for him. Tywin should have been regent. BUt insetad, Kevan found himself far away from home, with his fury of a niece and the meek, chubby little boy that was his king. Kevan longed for Dorna so much that it hurt, her babble and sweetplums, the sound of her sewing and humming, always soothing to his ears. But he would not see his lady wife in a long time. Cersei had brought this upon him, Cersei and Tyrion. Tywin had been so determined to have children that made him proud. A great knight, a great queen, a great thinker...but those three had always been his curse. A curse he had borne alone.

 **~o~**

 **The Stepstones, 300AC**

 **Sandor**

She had given Waters the flagship, a bone for the dog, Cedrik had remarked with a grin at Sandor. It would soothe Waters's hurt pride and the bastard was always one for pomp and splendour, something the flagship did no doubt offer. Sandor was introduced as lord commander only this morning and to his utter surprise, there was neither protest nor dissatisfaction. More curiously even, there were a few loud cheers.

"This is not the capital. And these are no sheep that fear a dog." Aliena beamed at him. They stood on the the highest deck of the flagship, together with Waters and Storm and Waters' second in command.

Indeed. These men that filled the decks below them were of a different sort, this was no army of paid soldiers, but an army of supporters. These men were brave and fierce and loyal.

"And you knew that when you asked me." Sandor could not stop his tone from sounding bitter. He felt deceived in all truth. _I need you. I depend on you._ She had known that he would relent.

"That was _why_ I asked you." She said, the smile was gone and her whisper more urgent. "I need you. You need me. I did not deceive you. There are things I want and things you want and I had hoped we would achieve them _together_." Her voice was almost drowned out by the cheering men below them, Storm had just bellowed some command or battlecry.

"And what do I want?" he asked sardonically.

"Your brother is still alive. The High Sparrow has not paid yet." she shrugged. "But most importantly of all-" She took his hand in front of four thousand eyes but no one seemed to see it. "You want me. I am ready to tie our futures together. If you are not-" She nodded over to the shore of Westeros, a blue-grey shadow, only a tad darker than the sky, at the western horizon. "You can still leave." He felt her withdrawing her hand but he held it tightly.

"Not bloody likely. I'll go with you, to old Valyria if needs be." he grunted in response, partly to hide that her words touched him, once again. _Tie our futures together_.

"How convenient." She smiled. "I thought about a quick side-trip."

Her hand remained in his and finally, two eyes seemed to notice. Eyes that were as blue as a summer sky. Eyes that showed more surprise and pain and displeasure than Sandor would have thought the man capable of. Aliena had noticed it, too.

As they climbed down the stairs to the main deck, Sandor heard him whisper, quite stiffly, into her ear: "I did not know your taste at all." She smiled, sweetly as only she could. "Oh, do not worry. No one did."

 **~o~**

"It would have been wiser to hide it." He said, once they were alone on the beach.

She only shrugged.

"Wiser, perhaps. But I won't win this game with deceptions. Not the Stormlanders. With plans, yes. Schemes even. But not with lies. That lies behind me." She had to smile a little. "He looked truly shocked, didn't he?"

He had. And Sandor had not liked that at all. A disappointed man might do things he would not even have considered before. Suddenly, he realised how odd this situation was. Their roles were reversed for once.

"Aye."

Aliena walked over to _their_ ship with Storm, discussing a few minor issues and Sandor stayed behind. The beach was as busy as a beehive, servants and men carried boxes and chests from one ship to another, others came out of the cave that had functioned as some pirate lord's seat before with trunks and jute sacks.

"How?" A male, distinctly aristocratic voice asked behind him. "And why?"

Waters was a tall man but still several inches shorter than him so Sandor looked down at his narrow, handsome face. He shrugged.

"No idea." He shared the man's disbelief most of the time.

Aurane looked after her, his eyes followed her footprints in the sand. She stood laughing with two soldiers and Storm right now, they were too far away to hear her words but they both saw the men's faces.

"She's not even that beautiful." Waters said. Sandor disagreed but he knew what the other man meant. There was something else about her that made her so attractive.

The bastard gave a short, bitter bark of a laugh.

"You, of all men. It's a joke."

Sandor felt the familiar flame of anger.

"Careful, bastard." He growled and Waters nodded with a faint smile.

"Does she think I will betray her?"

"You betrayed the queen." Sandor gave back.

" _The_ _Queen._ The golden fool, that's what she was. I followed Lady Swann's orders, and was grateful that she offered me a way out of that stinking lion's den. She need not fear." His tone was bitter now. "These men don't love me, I doubt they'd jump over a puddle for me. Bastards rarely inspire loyalty. That is why she surrounds herself with them. With bastards… and a dog." He laughed again.

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. As bitter as it is."

Sandor understood. There was no one else. This man had no family and no friends. He could not go back to the capital and Stannis was fighting a losing battle. These men were not his, the ships were not his, and he would starve to death on this island. There was no hope he would make his way to the dragon girl all by himself. He needed her. She had made sure that he depended on her. Sometimes, very rarely, he noticed the lions' influence although he doubted that she was aware of it. She could not know how cruel she was for she had not been aware of Waters' motivations either. ' _It is Dragonstone he wants.'_ And he would get his castle. But that was not all he had hoped for.

"I know." Sandor replied mercilessly. "You better get on board of your ship, bastard." They both turned around to the massive ship's new name was written in resplendent, white letters on the dark hull: _Flying Swan._

"Should have waited with the naming." Waters managed a weak grin. Not much was left of his cocksure arrogance and for a moment, Sandor almost felt sympathy for him. Almost.

"Too bloody right." He agreed and then strode off, over to her. Her hair flew in the stiff breeze and she had pulled her purple cloak tightly around her chest. A dinghy was bopping up and down on the water in front of her, the seawater soaked her gown but she did not seem to mind.

"Did you console him?" There was mockery in her voice. _She really does not know._

"Sure, I invited him over for supper." he gave back. "I'm no bloody wet nurse. But he knows that there's no way out for him. You have him in your net." The last part was perhaps a little harsh.

"You make me sound a cruel fisherman." But she seemed to be slightly embarrassed.

"It depends on the fish, I guess." He grinned and offered her a hand to help her into the dinghy. She laughed at him.

"You get more knightly with every day, you know."

"And you get more annoying."

She sat down in the small boat.

"Then I count myself lucky that you will soon be trapped with me so that you don't get any ideas and try to flee." She leant over and kissed him on the lips. "You're in my net now."

They reached the huge warship and the ladder of wood and rope that led up to the main deck some fifty rungs above them.

"Try not to fall, swan." He remarked as she put her foot on the first rung with some difficulty due to her heavy, soaked skirts.

She smiled. "Why, haven't you always caught me?"

Sandor pulled her towards her. "Perhaps I'm sick of it." he grumbled against her lips.

"No. You love it because it gives you the chance to tell me how stupid I am." She grinned. "That was one of the first things you actually said to me. That I'm a fool."

"Still think so." _Even more so now._ "But I won't complain."

Sandor put a thumb under her chin. Her eyes were full of amusement and something softer than that. Slowly, he kissed her, lightly on the forehead at first, then on the mouth.

She wrapped her arms around his neck but he disentangled from her grip gently.

"We'll delay everyone, swan." He helped her up the ladder although she protested. "But we'll have all night."

Her cheeks were already red from the cold, that saved her from the treacherous blush that normally followed his bawdy remarks.

"More days and nights than you can count." She grinned down at him and a drop of saltwater from her skirt landed on his upturned face.

He wiped it away. Yes. Days and nights.

 **~o~**

 **Aliena**

The sun hovered over the Western horizon as if it could not decide whether to rise or sink. The ships were ready and there was no reason for further delay. Their plan was to pass by Myr, Tyrosh and Lys in the dark and thereby avoid being seen by anyone who might possibly report back to Westeros. No one was very confident that would work but there was no better way to hide ten huge dromonds and two war galleys from prying eyes. The sky was lead and steel, from time to time, the sun broke through the clouds and painted the sky orange and yellow, but it soon hid behind towering grey clouds again like a blushing maiden behind the curtains of her litter.

Aliena stood at the railing and allowed the wind to ruffle her hair with cold fingers, to tear at her skirt and cloak. Around her, men bellowed commands, pulled at ropes and below her, other men rowed and sang and cursed. _But are they truly my men?_

If Stannis and his daughter were really dead, she _was_ the heir of the Stormlands, no one could doubt that. However, Aliena had no proof for her uncle's death but rumours and she would be too far away from Westeros to know for sure. It did not matter, though. Alyssa had been the eldest. And Stannis would not win this war, not even with his wildling army, whether it was the Bastard of Bolton that defeated him or the Lannister forces. _I am the Lady of the Stormlands. And these are my men._ Sandor had been right.

She climbed up the steps to the highest deck. The ship was leaving the shallow waters around the islands, not long and they would leave the area of the stepstones, not long and they would leave Westeros so far behind that she would not even be able to see the grey line of its coast at the horizon. They were heading east and left the west behind.

She stood up on the highest deck, her hair wet from rain and spray, her cheeks red from the cold, her white gown whirling around her legs, chased by a stiff breeze.

"Good men of the Stormlands." The wind tore at her voice and carried it over to the men that lifted their heads to look at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other ships.

"My sigil is a stag… and a swan. Animals that are proud and strong and protective of their family and lands. But these animals never presume to conquer and suppress, never presume to rule over foreign territory. We know our strengths and our weaknesses.

Three Stormlanders have been kings of Westeros. My uncles. But they were neither rightful nor righteous rulers and none of them found joy or honour in their crowns. We Stormlanders should not meddle in the game of thrones. We do not desire that ugly chair. We will leave that to the lions and dragons, to the beasts of the forests.

 _We_ have other duties. The stormlands were in the hands of Baratheons and Durrandons for centuries and never have they been abandoned like this. We are setting out to find the rightful queen and bring her home to take her throne...and then, I will bring justice to our Stormlands, justice and prosperity and wealth. The war will end and spring will thaw and our kingdom will heal." She waited for the applause and cheers to ebb off.

"Will you choose me as your Lady? Will you choose me to lead the Stormlanders to their rightful queen? Will you choose me to bring honour back to the Stormlands, honour, pride and happiness?"

The response was deafening. And the shouts came not only from her ship but also from those around her, from the _Flying Swan_ and the _Proud Stag_ , from the lesser ships that followed and bore the names of wives and mothers and daughters. One, Aliena had seen, had been named _Lady Cersei_ , and the gilded figurehead, that Aurane had discarded, had been installed upside down. A cruel jape but it proved once more that these men were sick of King's Landing and Cersei's misrule. They were reading, hungry for someone new. And that someone was not Daenerys, far away in Meereen. For now, on this ship, it was her.

Sandor's grey eyes met hers. _I told you so,_ they said, with a hint of mockery and a hint of pride.

 _I will be their Lady and you will be their Lord Commander._ Together, they were capable of so much. What could possibly stop them?

* * *

A/N: Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou: Thank you! I put a lot of effort in her development, so that actually means a lot to me :)

TheOneKrafter: Yeah, I have no idea at all how Waters is supposed to be as we only see him from Cersei's perspective, most of the time, and we all know how reliable _she_ is. :D But I have an idea how Dany might react... Thank you for letting me borrow them!

Dear Guest: Thank you a lot for your review. No, it won't be commonplace, though Adyn will show up again once, I think. We are both aware that our stories don't go well together but I actually think it was nice to give a nod to each other. :) Thanks!

Nyany4: Thank you a lot for reviewing! Yeah, I'm trying really hard not to make this a "Love Story with no real plot" story, nor a "Well, she has to have a love interest" story, and I'm happy it seems to work. And they just go together very well because they have very different talents and compliment each other. Thank you! I am actually quite proud of that^^ Uni's going quite well, thank you :)


	47. Chapter 47

Is it a bird, is it a plane? Nope, it's a new chapter after three months of literally nothing.

First things first: Apologies. Most of this I had already written in March. Then a lot of really bad stuff happened in March/ April and I couldn't actually look at this again because it remembered me of bad days. I'm really, really sorry that it took so long. No further apologies, here comes the next chapter. Hopefully, it's worth the wait. If anyone still reads this, that is^^ I won't vanish again, I promise, though updates might not be as frequently as they used to be (like, y'know, three months ago).

By the way, this was me in March, I said 'long wait' and it were like 10 days: "Here you go. Sorry for the long wait, I had to re-read all the Dany chapters from ADoD. Sorry for messing up the timeline a bit."

Replies to reviews at the bottom now!

* * *

Slaver's Bay, 300AC

~o~

Aliena

So far east, the days were warm, far warmer than anything she knew. There were sweat beads trickling down her skin even before noon, despite the soothing breeze from the sea. In the city, it would be insufferable, and they would soon reach Meereen. The Gulf of Grief lay behind them and they were sailing up the waters of Slaver's Bay, past the red bricks of Astapor. As every Westerosi, Aliena felt uncomfortable so close to a slaver's city. Slavery was a sign of an inferior culture, and no God in Westeros, neither the nameless ones of the North nor the seven of the South, would ever allow it. _She is called breaker of shackles._ Hopefully, the dragon queen was everything she had prayed for.

Sandor's heavy steps neared and she turned around. He had a dressed wound on his left forearm and she knew about the cut on his shin, but apart from that, the battles and trials of the Summer Sea had left him unscathed. Others had not been so lucky. They had lost a hundred men in these strange waters, far from home, and the spirits of _her_ men were not as high as they used to be. The Dragon Queen had to be a success or they had died in vain. Neither Cedrik nor Waters had taken serious injuries, and her three commanders gave her no reason for criticism or fear.

"We'll be there in a week's time, if nothing goes wrong." She could tell from his tone that he expected things to go wrong. Yes, they had gotten off rather too lightly.

"What should go wrong? This is her bay."

They both knew she was only pretending. And they both knew how important a small triumph was, something that might lift the spirits.

 _If all else fails, we can still be together. Not the way we wanted to, or at least not the way I wanted to, but not all will be lost._

She had more in her life than only a keep now and that gave her hope.

They passed by tall, odd-looking galleys, some of them attacked, or tried to at least, but these past weeks at sea had taught the captains of Aliena's small fleet one thing: That sticking together, showing only one united, imprenetable front, would scare them off or fight them off. Only if they allowed an enemy ship to single one dromond out, only then could their foe do them harm.

Yunkai, the yellow city, soon lay behind them and more and more galleys littered their way than stars spangled the sky.

All these ships meant trouble, that was obvious.

"Your dragon queen is not as well-liked as you thought." Sandor pointed out one night, they were sharing a flagon of sour wine and a loaf of hard bread and cheese.

"No." she had to admit between two bites. "But these ships belong to slavers and merchants. Daenerys freed all the slaves on her way...she ruined their trade and now they want their revenge."

"She cannot hope for friends from the east. Hopefully, the girl is wise enough to see the importance of friends from the west." He took a gulp of wine. "What if she doesn't?"

"You mean what if she kills us? I never took you for someone to discuss theological questions, in all truth." she grinned.

"I'll go to one of the hells, no doubt." His tone was careless. Sandor believed in neither Gods nor hells. No God would have created a monster like his brother, no hell could be worse than fire.

"What if she won't have you?"

Aliena preferred not to dwell on that possibility, but she had made a plan.

"If she won't have me, these men will desert me." He did not object. "I will try to get on the swiftest ship with those that are still loyal to me and sail west again. Admit my defeat and live out my days in a pretty townhouse in Braavos, constantly muttering to myself and keeping my failure and bitterness buried inside me till the end of my days."

"You should try the stage, swan." He had raised an eyebrow, quizzically. "You would give up everything you ever wanted because a little girl did not take a liking to you?"

"Storm's End is not all I want." she shrugged, as if it was not big deal to admit it but he reached out for her hand, squeezed it, and returned to ripping off chunks of bread as if nothing had happened.

"I would rather spend my days away from Westeros than serve my uncle or Varys's mummer dragon and die for them. I cannot die for a cause I do not believe in, and I cannot adjust my loyalty like a weather vane."

Suddenly, Sandor gave a bark of laughter. "Three years ago, I would have said you have no loyalty."

She had to smile despite herself. "I do. I just hide it well."

"You're a closed book, that's right." There was a sharpness in his voice now and the look he gave her was no longer light and cheerful.

"And you're a book written in the runes of the First Men." Softly, she shifted in her seat, leant over to him.

"What will you do? If she won't have me?"

He seemed to find that funny. "Girl, doesn't matter where you go, I'll go with you."

"Even if it means-"

"Even then. My brother is dead, and whatever that old man did, the creature is no longer Gregor. I still want to kill him, aye, but I want other things more. I never gave a shit for gold and keeps and lands and offices. I never played your game, swan, and I won't start now."

"Perhaps you have no choice. You are with me now." _We have tied our futures together and there is no way back._

"I've always been better at gambling than you, swan. No worries, I'll teach you."

They had both moved closer to each other, she could now smell the wine on his breath, feel his warmth.

"That is very gallant of you, Ser." She kissed him. "Now, aren't you the perfect knight?"

He pulled her over to him so that she sat on his lap awkwardly. Her jibes no longer provoked him.

"You are no perfect lady, that much I know."

His kisses still excited her.

~o~

Where Astapor had been red and Yunkai had been yellow, Meereen was made of bricks of all colours, although many of them had faded in the sun. Its walls were better guarded and thicker, its pyramids higher and more imposing. This was the Queen of the three daughters of Old Ghis. The Queen of Cities for the Queen of Dragons. But before the imposing walls, on the sandy beach, there was a camp, not the camp of an army but a camp of scared smallfolk, a camp of people that had fled from something, had taken with them only what they wore on their bodies.

"I know camps like this." Sandor rasped, and she heard the anger in his words. "Rabble fleeing from a disease. And they brought it with them." He was right. There was a makeshift mass grave at the far end of the beach, dead bodies in a hole in the ground, far away from the brown roughspun tents not not far enough.

"They have to burn their dead. Or the disease will come over them all."

"Over us all." Sandor replied grimly. And then he shouted over to Storm, to Waters:

"Straight on, past the beach." And the two men nodded.

The ships stayed out in the bay, far away from the sick. Waters and Storm would soon join them to go to the dragon queen together.

"I will go alone with Waters and Storm." She said, her voice stern, not betraying her true emotions. She was scared, she was reluctant to leave him. But these men followed _his_ orders, after the battles and fights they had won under his command and here, he would be safe.

Sandor laughed bitterly. "Says who, swan? You want to command me?" He stood so close to her that she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eyes, that she found it hard to concentrate on this discussion.

"I do not command you. I ask you kindly to stay behind and allow me to do what I can do best while you do what you can do best." If he thought that she did this to protect him, he'd go with her. This was the only way to convince him, but her chances were slim.

"If you think I will let you go-"

"You don't _let_ me do anything. You don't _allow_ me to go. I try to make you see sense. If something happens to us, these men will desert us and we will all meet our end behind those colourful walls. But if you stay out here, it is different. They follow you. They respect you. If we are not back before evenfall, try to free us. If you cannot, take these men back to Westeros."

"Do you take me for some fucking coward? You're not my wetnurse, swan, no need to protect me. You go in there with the perfumed leek and the old man, you die before evenfall. I'm not gonna wait for that, I'm not gonna dig you a shallow grave on this damned beach. I'll come with you. If you think you can stop me, try."

She could not stop him. And he knew that well. But reason was on her side.

"I just want you to trust me. Is that too much to ask of you? I have survived Joffrey. I have survived Cersei. I have survived the spider and the septon. Do not think you have to protect me, do not think I am incapable of protecting myself. I am not. And if we go in there with drawn swords and raised spears, do you really think they will let us see the queen? We did it your way, the whole journey. But now, we need to do it my way. And you have to trust me."

"I trust you well enough with my life. But not with yours." He put a hand on her shoulder.

She took his other hand. "Don't worry, I am too selfish to die. There is so much I want to do. I promise, I will come back to you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, swan."

"Well, if I can't keep this promise, I really do not need to worry about your wrath, do I?" Aliena smiled.

"You really need to work on your jests." he mumbled as he pulled her closer to kiss her.

"Chrmchrm."

Waters had cast his eyes down, though there were twin roses on his cheeks, while Storm looked at them with mild curiosity and amusement.

"We should go, my lady."

She nodded. "We should. Sandor will stay and keep the troops in order."

She turned around and kissed him again, a last time, softly and innocently on the lips.

"I do keep my promises, you know." she whispered and heard him snort in disagreement before she climbed down the ladder to the dinghy that bopped up and down gently on the calm water.

There was a narrow band of white sand between the tall walls and the green, clear water and that was where they were rowing towards.

The sand was hot even under her slippers, dry and hard, baked by the sun. Aliena had to lift up her skirts as they made for the gates, she did not want to ruin it with sand stains. Appearances meant a lot at court and she had picked her gown wisely. It was made of white satin and golden Myrish lace, cut in the traditional Westerosi way with dagged sleeves. The neckline was low, but not too low, the train modest and not unpractical. Aliena had added a high collar of hammered gold and white swan feathers that Joffrey had given her once. The feathers were uncomfortable and poked into the back of her head from time to time. _Nothing compared to the spikes and blades of the iron throne._ Daenerys would sit on it, sooner rather than later hopefully, and Aliena prayed that she would not be rejected by the throne like Joffrey.

"We are noble citizens of Daenerys Targaryen, First of her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. We seek an audience to swear fealty to her after we took on us the long and strenuous journey to her Eastern throne." Aliena called up to him.

"And Breaker of Shackles." the man added. Then the gate was opened.

"No weapons." The guard that received them spoke the common tongue, though it was only slightly more understandable than the other man's Valyrian. She allowed him to frisk her although both Waters and Storm objected loudly. Finally, the man seemed satisfied.

"Come."

They followed him through narrow, sandy streets with high walls on either side. It was a maze and they could not hope to get out of here on their own. _All Seven, please, let her be the Queen I hope she is._ The roads were filled with flies. _Corpses draw flies._ She prayed again that this was no ruse. _We're in the city now and at their mercy._ A risk worth taking...hopefully.

Finally, the reached the Great Pyramid, higher than any building Aliena had ever seen, so high that she could not even make out the top from where they were standing. It was impressive for the three of them, Aliena sensed the awe in the air, as palpable but flighty as an exotic smell.

"It will be a long climb to the top." Storm said.

"And exhausting." Waters added.

"Isn't it always?" Aliena smiled. They all had climbed high to be here. It was only a puddle jump now.

They were received by a small group of guards with copper skin and dark eyes, oddly beardless.

"Unsullied." Waters muttered. The slave army of eunuchs. Former slaves.

"Her Radiance has given the command to let you pass. Do you carry weapons on your bodies?" Again they were frisked. Three sedan chairs were ready but Waters and Storm rejected them, despite the strenuous journey, and as a result, Aliena was the only one who reached the top with a natural pallor and with the ability to speak a full sentence.

Waters next to her was breathing heavily and Storm was red as a beetroot. _Men._

A seneschal stood by the door, dressed in a long sheet with a fringe of pearls and amethysts beads that was wrapped around his body in a way that looked rather uncomfortable.

"Her Radiance will receive you in a moment. Your names, so that her herald can announce you."

"Lady Aliena Swann."

"Cedrik Storm."

"Lord Aurane Waters, Lord Admiral."

She could barely hide her smile.

While the rooms at the bottom had been sparse, up here splendour reigned. Tapestries and rushes, sculptures and paintings made the room look twice as elegant as any room in the Red Keep. _She keeps a lavish court for a former Khaleesi._

Two men pushed the doors open and anounced their arrival. They did not even take their swords. _They do not fear them because we are mice in the dragon's pit._

The Great Hall of the Meereenese pyramid was thrice the size of the Great Hall of the Red Keep, or maybe five times. The marble columns and tiles were purple, and the walls covered by tapestries. It looked like the setting of a feverish dream.

What surprised her was the emptiness. Only two score stood around, most of them servants or soldiers.

 _She does not keep a merry court at all._ As they walked on, Aliena saw her new queen, sitting on a raised platform at the far end of the hall. Her short hair was silver, her gown the same purple as the marble pillars. She rose from her seat.

"You, the usurper's niece, come with two _bastards_ to pay your respect?"

"Noble bastards, Your Grace. A great warrior and a Lord Admiral. Just because they bear no noble name that does not mean that their intentions are ignoble."

"And you do not bear the Baratheon name but their blood runs through your veins. Why have you come here when your cousin still warms _my_ throne?"

"Because he is neither the rightful nor the right king to rule the Seven Kingdoms, Your Grace. We have come here because we see in you the only rightful ruler. "

"Your uncle meant to kill me." The Queen's tone was accusing her of a crime her uncle had committed.

"Your brother's men killed my father. And yet, I do not bear you any ill will."

Aliena could see that that remark caught her off guard.

"And yet, you served your uncle many years, came here only now after his death."

"I was a _child_." Aliena gave back. "I was ignorant and-" _Alone._ "knew nothing about your existence, Your Grace."

"You are his blood and you supported his cause, you all did." She looked at the three off them. "There is no place at my court for opportunists. I give you safe conduct but you must have left my harbour before evenfall. And you will vow never to take up arms against me."

She was a tiny thing, the girl she had thought her queen, but her words were no less shattering. _She is blinded by cold hatred._ Her brother must have filled her ears with stories about the usurper for years, just as they had only heard the bad stories about Mad Aerys. Aliena could not allow these prejudices to destroy everything she had worked for.

As they were escorted out of the great, long hall, Aliena made a decision born out of despair and exasperation. She whirled around, forgetting both Storm and Waters, and called over to the queen on her ebony bench, a speck of white against the purple, veined walls:

"And you, Your Grace? Pray, tell me, was your brother the king he was supposed to be? Was he the brother he was supposed to be? For how many years did you follow him, for how many years did you support him, knowing that he was not the best for the Seven Kingdoms?"

The girl rose with the dignity of a Goddess and walked over to them. The hall was so long that it took her half an eternity but finally she stood there, eye to eye with Aliena. Hers had the colour of amethysts.

"My brother is dead." she said flatly. "And you dare-"

"My uncle is dead. I watched him die and did nothing. Just like you, Your Grace. You condemn me for crimes you committed yourself.

That is unjust but I will leave. And I will not take up arms against you. But know this: No one ever fought for king Viserys. No woman in the Seven Kingdoms still sews dragon banners, no man still sharpens his sword to defend the dragons. The smallfolk wants peace, no more. And none of them care for the queen across the sea. But I and the men that have accompanied me have crossed oceans for you, have braved the perils of the sea for you. More than a hundred have died for you before they ever had the chance to serve you. And you stand here and reward all our efforts with rejection and scorn. Your hatred for my uncle overshadows your judgment, Your Grace. And that will not serve you well."

She sank into a curtsy, then turned around, walked through the open door without looking back. They were half way down the grand stairs when she was called back. Waters at her side looked at her with admiration but Storm merely grunted. He was a proud man.

The Dragon Queen was waiting for them not in the grand audience hall but in a council chamber with marble walls and floors, cushioned benches and expensive wall hangings.

"You spoke boldly." The Queen said with a hint on anger and a hint of approval. "It is honest tongues a queen should surround herself with, not lickspittles. But do never presume to lecture me in public again."

"I beg your forgiveness, Your Grace. It was despair that spoke from me." That much was true.

"How many men do you have?" she asked, now.

"Near on two thousand, Your Grace." That pleased her greatly.

"Who commands them?" She looked at Waters but the tall man smiled faintly.

"Sandor Clegane commands them. He is still aboard."

Ser Barristan led out a loud gasp. "The _Hound_ commands your men, my lady?"

"The Queen's men now, Ser Barristan, but yes." She smiled at the old man. "I could not think of anyone more fitting."

Ser Barristan's expressions spoke volumes, _he_ certainly did not agree, but he made no further comment.

"They can be accomodated in the pyramid but I would prefer them to stay on their ships, at least for a while." She looked over to her Lord Commander and the old man nodded.

"Meereen is not peaceful at the moment. We are in conflict with Yunkai, and the Sons of the Harpy cause trouble within the city. Only yesterday night, three freedmen have been murdered." _It is not all gold and sunshine here for her, that is why she stays. She wants to cement her rule here before she takes her throne in the west._

"I understand. There are ten huge war dromonds you now call your own, Your Grace. No Yunkai'i ship can compete with them." Aliena paused. "But the war inside your walls cannot be stopped with ships or men if these _Harpy's sons_ hide in their pyramids as soon as the sun rises." _Here, we will need diplomacy. But these people are strange to us all and worse even, we are strange to them._

"A marriage has been suggested." _The oldest contract in the world. I give you a bride and you give me peace._

"You will take a Meereenese husband, Your Grace?" The Westerosi would not like this at all. Ser Barristan did clearly not approve but only few men were aware of the price the girl was willing to pay for peace. Aliena was aware of it, and she admired her for her dedication.

"Yes. There is no other way, I fear."

Ser Barristan cleared his throat. "You are Queen of the Seven Kingdoms as well, Your Grace. Lady Aliena, you surely agree with me. A Meereenese is no fit consort for a Queen."

"No fit consort for a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but a fit consort for a Queen of Meereen. I see a way out, Your Grace. You marry your nobleman and bring peace to this city, as long as it takes. And then you take back the throne that is yours- and leave your husband behind. The High Septon will surely agree that a marriage that has not been blessed by the Seven is no marriage at all, and you are free of your husband in Westeros."

Her plan was neither elegant nor honourable and she saw that it rankled with Barristan Selmy but the Queen was convinced, although not happy. _She better gets used to it._ Kings and Queens could rarely afford the luxury of personal happiness or honour. They had to do what needed to be done.

"I buy this throne with my hand." She said and shook her head.

"You buy peace." Aliena replied and the girl nodded. Her Queen would have rather heard something else, she would have rather been told not to marry. But she wanted the truth, and that was often a bitter draught.

Daenerys looked at her for a long moment.

"I would like you to join me tonight for dinner. You, and Lord Waters and Lord Storm, and that man, Sandor Clegane."

 _There is no better way to fix a price for service than over a cup of summerwine and a slice of honeyed lamb._ Aliena knew what Waters wanted, and she knew what Storm wanted, she knew her own price...but she did not know what Sandor wanted. _And he is the one I think I know best._ Perhaps there was nothing he wanted that a queen could give him. She would ask him later, on the ship, in their small cabin that so often seemed to offer more than the wide world.

"I am sure I speak for my companions when I say that your invitation honours us greatly and it is our pleasure to accept it gratefully."

Waters, always gallant, bowed and kissed Daenerys' hand, muttering words of thanks Aliena could not understand. Storm at her other side was tall and upright as an oak tree and voiced his acceptance in clear, humble words.

As they slowly made their descent down the wide, elegant marble stairs, Aliena was as relieved as never before. She had gambled, at a higher stake than ever, had given everything in her power, had been so close to failure… And had won, thank all the Gods. _A new queen, an old game._

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ShinyRedPenny: Thank you! No, I'm not the blackmailing kind, though a new update would be very much appreciated! It has been too long (says the crow to the raven).

S-A-16: Thank you for your review, I'm happy you got addicted and sorry I just stopped updating. Well, if you're still reading this, I hope you still enjoy it.

TheOneKrafter: I am so sorry! Thank you for your kind review. I feel terrible because I abandoned you. I haven't read fanfiction in a while but I will catch up on Small Folk! I am most sorry about that actually. I hope you can forgive me.

Dear Guest: There are two guest reviews, are they both yours? Just for clarification. ;)

Yeah, I am still thinking about the further plot for that one, I might write another chapter for that story soon, without sexual content probably. I also regret their son there in all honesty. It was just too soon.

What I meant was that she knows she cannot win the Stormlanders with lies. She probably won't stop. And she won't lie about/ to Sandor anymore. Perhaps. If she can actually stop. But in all truth: Scheming and deceiving is what she is good at. That is not a very nice trait but it is the truth. I edited that part now, thank you for pointing that out!

I actually don't think it goes that badly together to be honest. :D

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Again, apologies. Should I ever leave again, I will add an A/N to the last chapter. I hope I won't have to, though.


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